tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-676060235705591432015-09-16T19:31:42.026-04:00The Elegance of Humanity in AmericaBillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-59961651845766227852013-01-16T18:37:00.001-05:002013-01-16T18:37:06.052-05:00Harry Potter and the Inequity of the Wizarding Educational System<br />In part one of this (at least) three part series, I discussed Quidditch's several shortcomings as a legitimate sport and offered several tweaks that would make it a truly proud and noble game. &nbsp;In this installment, I feel it necessary to discuss the atrocities committed each day by the faculty and staff at Hogwarts, the racism inherent in the system, and the apparent lack of attention given to special needs students.<br />A glaring issue that comes to mind in the Hogwarts educational machine is the House system. &nbsp;First year students don an old pointed cap called the Sorting Hat, a magical device which reads the children's minds and sorts them into one of four Houses that were each founded by one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. &nbsp;Godric Gryffindor's house supposedly values courage, bravery, nerve and chivalry; Rowena Ravenclaw's house values intelligence, creativity, learning and wit; Helga Hufflepuff's house values hard work, patience, justice and loyalty - though Hufflepuffs are treated as rejects in the novels; and Salazar Slytherin's house values ambition, cunning, leadership and resourcefulness and - oh yeah - blatant Naziism.<br />You see, the wizarding world is fractured into a hierarchy. &nbsp;The echelon of this hierarchy in which you are born essentially determines the course of your life forever. &nbsp;The hierarchy is as follows:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SwoD_XrABEs/UPcwj87FZfI/AAAAAAAAAy0/LVO4Q7OzbZw/s1600/Harry+Potter+Hierarchy.png" 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from two parents with magical abilities as well. &nbsp;Half-bloods are born to one magical and one non-magical (muggle) parent, but happen to have magical abilities. &nbsp;Mudblood is a largely derogatory term for any person born with magical abilities to two non-magical (muggle) parents. &nbsp;Some pure bloods, including the followers of Voldemort, look on Mudbloods as thieves: people that have somehow stolen the secrets of magic thought ought to be cast out. &nbsp;A main character, Hermione Granger, is referred to as a Mudblood by members of the Slytherin house due to her being born to two decidedly unmagical British dentists. &nbsp;If ONLY British dentists could work magic.<br />Squibs are a trick of magical genetics and are considerably rare. &nbsp;They are the non-magical offspring of two wizards. &nbsp;So rare are they in fact, that I can only recall two squibs mentioned in all the novels: Argus Filch and Arabella Figg. &nbsp;Squibs apparently have some privileges not granted ordinary muggles. &nbsp;Argus Filch is the spying, curmudgeonly custodian at Hogwarts. &nbsp;Arabella Figg recognizes a Dementor attack and is allowed to enter the Ministry of Magic to defend Harry in court when he is on trial for using magic in the vicinity of muggles – an offense carrying a penalty of expulsion from Hogwarts.<br />Muggles are all non-magic people. &nbsp;Salazar Slytherin and his adherents believed that muggles were inferior to wizards and ought to be enslaved. &nbsp;In fact, when the Ministry was infiltrated by the Death Eaters (followers of Voldemort) and a puppet state instituted, a statue called “Magic is Might” was erected. &nbsp;A direct quote from the text helps us here:<br /><br />“A gigantic statue of black stone dominated the scene. &nbsp;It was rather frightening, this vast sculpture of a witch and a wizard sitting on ornately carved thrones…Engraved in foot-high letters at the base of the statue were the words MAGIC IS MIGHT….Harry looked more closely and realized that what he had thought were decoratively carved thrones were actually mounds of carved humans: hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all with rather stupid, ugly faces, twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards.”<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eYfVgHRs4_k/UPcw-K7khbI/AAAAAAAAAy8/PMK6BvpGvWE/s1600/Magic_is_Might_Monument.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eYfVgHRs4_k/UPcw-K7khbI/AAAAAAAAAy8/PMK6BvpGvWE/s320/Magic_is_Might_Monument.jpg" width="294" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Fig. 2: Was the goddamned wizarding world so oblivious to have missed the fact that World War II and the Holocaust happened?</i></div><br />Those “stupid, ugly faces” belonged to muggles.<br />So let’s review. &nbsp;Hogwarts School has a house founded by a racist eugenicist that still adheres to a doctrine that renounces entire populations based on their pedigree.<br />THAT IS GROSS NEGLIGENCE.<br />Even Ron Weasley, Harry’s best friend, is quoted as saying: “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.” &nbsp;And the Sorting Hat’s song in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix goes:<br />“Said Slytherin, ‘Let’s just teach those<br />Whose ancestry is purest.’”<br />For centuries the school has bred wizards that value ethnic purity and racism. &nbsp;Is it any wonder that the most dangerous threat to the entire wizarding world, including the extended world outside of Britain, was educated and trained by the staff at Hogwarts! &nbsp;If Hogwarts were to completely sever its ties to Salazar Slytherin and actually preach the values of embracing people of all backgrounds, the tragedy of Tom Riddle’s transformation into Voldemort and the ensuing battle of Hogwarts could’ve been entirely avoided. &nbsp;Countless lives could have been spared with simple educational reform.<br />This of course brings up another important flaw in the Hogwarts system. &nbsp;There is apparently no place or even tolerance for witches and wizards of special needs. &nbsp;Now here I completely disregard the fact that Hogwarts does not educate Squibs. &nbsp;This in itself shows a level of elitism. &nbsp;Several courses offered at Hogwarts have absolutely nothing to do with magic! &nbsp;It is understandable that Squibs may not be able to complete courses such as Charms or Defense Against the Dark Arts, but what in the world prevents a person incapable of performing magic from learning:<br /><br /><ul><li>Herbology</li><li>Astronomy</li><li>Potions</li><li>Muggle Studies</li><li>Study of Ancient Runes</li><li>History of Magic</li></ul><div>None of these courses require magic; just a will to study and a love of learning! &nbsp;And yet, the racism inherent in the wizarding world relegates Squibs to essential second class citizenship. &nbsp;Filch is made a custodian. &nbsp;Arabella Figg's credibility is brought into question during judiciary proceedings simply because of her being a Squib!</div><div>But what about students with learning disabilities not related to their genetic origins? &nbsp;A great example of what happens to them exists in the books. &nbsp;Rubeus Hagrid is the groundskeepers at Hogwarts and spends a few semesters as the Professor of Care and Keeping of Magical Animals. &nbsp;Hagrid is known for his simple intellect. &nbsp;And because of his inability to defend himself logically, he is framed and expelled from school because he was falsely accused of unleashing a Basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets in the school. &nbsp;Hagrid is denied an education. &nbsp;He is forbidden from practicing magic. &nbsp;He is given a menial job. &nbsp;Ultimately Hagrid is forced to hide his wand in an umbrella. &nbsp;And rather than having the privilege of riding a broomstick, the preferred method of locomotion for wizards, Hagrid must use an enchanted muggle motorcycle to travel. &nbsp;HE IS TREATED LIKE A MUGGLE. &nbsp;And as we have already well established, being a muggle is essentially a crime.</div><div>And what of disabled wizards? &nbsp;Arianna Dumbledore, the sister of Hogwarts' headmaster, was traumatized as a child and was incapable of controlling her magic. &nbsp;On one occasion, she lost control of her magic, causing an explosion that killed her mother. &nbsp;Rather than treating Arianna and offering her assistance, she essentially made a prisoner in her own home. &nbsp;Because Hogwarts doesn't offer any sort of special education, Arianna would have been locked away in St. Mungo's hospital for witches and wizards.</div><div>Now, please don't get me wrong. &nbsp;I'm not calling JK Rowling an elitist, a racist or a eugenicist. &nbsp;I'm simply pointing out how all-pervasive racism is in Harry Potter. &nbsp;And perhaps it makes the series all the more interesting. &nbsp;But seriously folks, how could any school in its right mind in the modern era allow Slytherin house to continue existing?</div><div><br /></div><br />BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-16212771904443244662013-01-15T20:34:00.003-05:002013-01-15T20:50:11.047-05:00Harry Potter and the Inanity of QuidditchIn 2003, the word <i>muggle</i>&nbsp;was offered a spot in the Oxford English Dictionary. &nbsp;Now, this is perhaps not the honor it once was, considering that the English language consists of nearly ONE QUARTER MILLION individual words that have been borrowed, invented, conquered and bastardized. &nbsp;But this word, <i>muggle</i>, was added due to its use in a beloved series of books collectively known as the <i>Harry Potter Septology</i>. &nbsp;Having worked in the children's section of a library for some 5 years, I inevitably had to read the entire series. &nbsp;I even had the privilege of reading several books in the series before their official release dates, which is something I probably shouldn't mention given the sensitive nature of highly popular book releases. &nbsp;At first, I was highly skeptical of the series, perhaps due to my natural aversion to sensationally popular fads - because I'm apparently a dirty fucking hipster. &nbsp;But some thousands of pages later (in an exceptionally quaint font, I might add) I was completely enamored with the series. &nbsp;Like all great works of literature, Harry Potter isn't without its flaws, however... and I now see fit to share some of the pitfalls and plot holes that have bothered me since I've read the books and seen the movies.<br />But... why now? &nbsp;Why am I suddenly griping about Harry Potter after all these years? &nbsp;Why am I acting the Johnny-Come-Lately? &nbsp;Well, I just happen to be watching <i>Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone</i>&nbsp;right now. &nbsp;Also, my most popular blog entry of all time combines television shows that began in the 1960s. &nbsp;So... here we go!<br /><div>Item 1: Quidditch</div><div>The sport of quidditch makes NO FUCKING GODDAMNED SENSE WHATSOEVER. &nbsp;I can already hear the bellyaching of hardcore Harry Potter fans. &nbsp;"But BillChas, Rowling explained quidditch later in the series! &nbsp;Just look at --"</div><div>"BULLSHIT! &nbsp;She explained nothing! &nbsp;And you are an IDIOT and a REPROBATE if you still cling to the idea that quidditch is anything but page-filling nonsense!"</div><div>In the sport of quidditch, two sides compete to score the most points. &nbsp;If only it were that simple. &nbsp;Each team consists of seven players who are constantly riding broomsticks. &nbsp;Three chasers try to catch a ball called a quaffle and throw it into one of three rings on either side of the field for 10 points per goal. &nbsp;The three rings are guarded by a goaltender called the Keeper. &nbsp;Now, as if this sport weren't dangerous enough, these wizards who apparently have no regard for human life also release two enchanted balls into the air whose sole intent is to BLUDGEON people off of their brooms. &nbsp;That's right! &nbsp;There are two things flying around on the field with the expressed intent of hurting people! &nbsp;Fret not, for each team is equipped with two players called Beaters, whose job it is to knock away these death-balls, quaintly named Bludgers.</div><div>Now if all this seems too much to understand, at this point quidditch is kind of like soccer, hockey or handball, only with flying around on broomsticks and - oh yeah - balls that are trying to kill you flying about as well. &nbsp;Score the most points and you win the game? &nbsp;Oh, but did I mention there isn't a game clock? &nbsp;That's because the way the game ends DOESN'T FUCKING MAKE SENSE.</div><div>On each team is yet another player named a Seeker. &nbsp;It is his or her job to find a small golden ball with wings with the adorable name of Golden Snitch. &nbsp;Why is this Golden Snitch so important? &nbsp;Well, that's because the moment that a team's Seeker catches the Snitch, the game ends - AND THE TEAM THAT FOUND THE SNITCH IS AWARDED 150 POINTS.</div><div>Did your head explode? &nbsp;If so, I apologize.</div><div>So all that flying around, dodging death balls, scoring points, and basically putting yourself in constant mortal peril is rendered entirely pointless because of a little golden ball words 15 individual goals with a quaffle.</div><div>WHY WOULD ANYONE PLAY THIS SPORT?</div><div>Later in the series, perhaps due to an enormous volume of hatemail, JK Rowling tried to explain away the problems with quidditch, namely:</div><div><ol><li>Catching the Snitch is the only significant event in quidditch and renders all the goal scoring and Bludger-dodging unexciting and pointless.</li><li>A Seeker whose team is losing by more than 150 points SHOULD NOT CATCH THE SNITCH.</li></ol><div>She explained that world-class Seekers whose teams were getting creamed would often catch the Snitch as a matter of personal glory. &nbsp;You can imagine how the Seeker who catches a Snitch under such circumstances would be treated in the locker room.</div></div><div>"Yo, dude... why did you catch the Snitch back there? &nbsp;We scored like 40 points in 3 minutes and were making a comeback."</div><div>"Oh... I just wanted the glory. &nbsp;It's like... a matter of pride."</div><div>"You know what? &nbsp;Fuck you, dude. &nbsp;Just... fuck you."</div><div>Just today, I was discussing these very grave problems with quidditch with my wife. &nbsp;And in a matter of minutes, we did something that neither JK Rowling or her editor were capable of doing with 7 books worth of ret-conning; we made quidditch almost kind of make sense! &nbsp;And let's face it - it's a made up sport from a book about a magic teenager. &nbsp;The sport CAN be slightly ridiculous without turning into the inane FARCE that it inevitably turned out to be in the actual books. &nbsp;Here are a few suggestions of how to make quidditch make sense.</div><div><ol><li>Have the game end after several Snitch catches - perhaps 3 or 4 - each catch being worth significantly less than 150 points, say 50.</li><li>Add a time limit. &nbsp;Catch the Snitch as many times as you want for 150 points each time. &nbsp;But at the end of the theoretical time limit, the game ends! &nbsp;Simple. &nbsp;Elegant.</li><li>...and my personal favorite... Time limit. &nbsp;If at the end of regulation time neither side has caught the Snitch, the Quaffle is ruled dead, all Chasers and Keepers become Seekers, two more Bludgers are added, and it's an all out war to catch the Snitch.</li></ol><div>That is a decidedly more sensical... and in many ways more AMERICAN form of quidditch.</div></div><div>Stay tuned tomorrow for part 2 of this series on the problems I have with Harry Potter. &nbsp;Next entry?</div><div>Harry Potter and the Inequity of the Wizarding Educational System.</div><div>And then part 3...</div><div>Harry Potter and Making Everyone Related to Everyone; or Ret-Con Gone Wild</div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-53782467577869757292012-06-18T22:14:00.000-04:002012-06-28T23:30:40.489-04:00Meet Me in MontaukThere are many things to despise about the glacial backwash that I call my home and native Island. &nbsp;Jutting 118 miles and boasting a remarkably nautical themed profile, Long Island is home to some of the most awful stereotypes in the United States. &nbsp;If foreigners don't immediately make fun of the way a native Long Islander <i>correctly</i>&nbsp;pronounces such words as wautuh, cauffee, and even Lawn Guylind, they instead immediately assume you drink Jägerbombs, care more for your car's rims than for the livelihood of your relatives, and always ask Sal, your barber, to coif your hair in a perfectly frosted blowout.<br /><br /><div>And believe me, having grown up on Long Island, I can say that I've met many people who fit that stereotype. &nbsp;But there is another Long Island - one that is often lost in a sea of blowout guidos. &nbsp;In the past month I've experienced something of a Long Island renaissance. &nbsp;It began when my family took a trip to the North Fork for produce from Lewin's Farm and baked goods from Briermere Farms. &nbsp;I have fond memories of sunshine soaked weekends in the summer. &nbsp;We'd go out to these same places for corn and dessert, pick up some <i>reasonably priced</i>&nbsp;lobsters from the Bayport Fish Store, and have just about the most fantastic meal conceivable. &nbsp;At Briermere's we purchased a strawberry rhubarb pie, some rhubarb squares and a jar of rare local beach plum jam. &nbsp;Even given how awesomely tasty our new purchases were, my sister insisted that we MAKE THE MOST OF WHERE WE WERE. &nbsp;For you see, Long Island's east end has a beautiful microclimate. &nbsp;Its sandy soil, cool crepuscular sea breezes and sunny summer days create a perfect climate for the production of wine grapes.</div><div>Under Jessica's dictatorship, we arrived at Martha Clara's vineyard. &nbsp;What may be said of this place other than it has neatly trimmed lawns, wooden picnic tables, and quaint petting areas featuring pigs and goats? &nbsp;I mean, you <i>could</i>&nbsp;try and talk about their wine. &nbsp;But honestly, it isn't very impressive. &nbsp;It's your SURROUNDINGS that makes the whole thing. &nbsp;There you are on the North fork, on a perfect day - a sapphire sky dotted with clouds more perfect than anything Monet or VanGogh painted - sipping wine whilst surrounding by the grapes that'll become next year's vintage. &nbsp;I was struck with my Long Island renaissance.</div><div>Our next stop pretty much sealed the deal: Long Island Spirits. &nbsp;There we sampled their LiV (rhymes with five, but obviously an acronym for Long Island Vodka) and something that was absolutely goddamned magical. &nbsp;The bartender placed a bottle of Blue Point Brewery's Old Howling Bastard barleywine and pointed to the enormous distilling column housed in glass behind me.</div><div>"This," he poured a measure of some delicious smelling amber liquid into a small shot glass etched with a pinecone, "is what happens when you distill this," indicating the Old Howling Bastard. &nbsp;And how can it be described? &nbsp;Using a craft beer to create a craft whisky? &nbsp;Even my sister and wife, both of whom dislike straight whisky admitted that they could TELL there was something special about that whiskey.</div><div>I immediately bought a bottle - and not only because it was hand-numbered by batch... no. &nbsp;Because it was an EXPERIENCE. &nbsp;Oh, and I bought a bottle of vodka as well - which I enjoyed enormously with Russian caviar on buttered bread.</div><div>And this weekend, I had a life experience that involved my very favorite place on Long Island. &nbsp;Actually, it might be my favorite place on Earth. &nbsp;At the very terminus of the south fork of Long Island, crowned with a jewel of a lighthouse commissioned by none other than President George Washington, lies Montauk. &nbsp;And now Montauk carries even more significance for me.</div><div>For two years now my sister has been part of an annual bike to Montauk. &nbsp;Cyclists may choose their starting point at various locations starting in Manhattan all the way up to Water Mill well into Long Island's east end. &nbsp;She had begun her previous bike rides at Mastic-Shirley, which, given detours for safety and bike laws, amounts to roughly 70 miles from Montauk. &nbsp;This year, I finally resolved to follow along with her.</div><div>This is no small feat for me. &nbsp;I've always enjoyed bicycling and a few years ago many of my friends knew how I would often forgo car rides in favor of riding my bike places. &nbsp;That happened to be a year that I mysteriously lost 30 pounds, all of which magically reappeared when I stopped cycling and started drinking soda again. &nbsp;My steed back then was a painfully stylish 1-speed Schwinn Panther.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0Burp5NWqvo/T9_Yf2LIT3I/AAAAAAAAAT0/8IX0oaM4k-4/s1600/schwinn+panther.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0Burp5NWqvo/T9_Yf2LIT3I/AAAAAAAAAT0/8IX0oaM4k-4/s320/schwinn+panther.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;<i>Fig. 1: A bicycle so sexy, that a girl who rides on these handlebars will eventually marry you some 7 years later.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our ruthless master, Time, eventually destroyed my beloved Panther. &nbsp;Oh, the times that I rode back and forth from Patchogue trying to clear my head, pondering the death of my beloved French professor. &nbsp;I had been without a bicycle until this Christmas after the death of the Red Panther, and the very girl who rode on my handlebars 7 years prior purchased me a beautiful new bicycle for Christmas.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LCpsXbw_BAw/T9_YfHKWZ7I/AAAAAAAAATs/LSwFpYBSIIk/s1600/schwinn+link.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LCpsXbw_BAw/T9_YfHKWZ7I/AAAAAAAAATs/LSwFpYBSIIk/s320/schwinn+link.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Fig. 2: The Schwinn Link: a more sophisticated weapon from a more civilized BillChas.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And this is the bike that I eventually used to ride 70 miles to Montauk just this past Saturday. &nbsp;Oh, did I say 70 miles? &nbsp;It turns out that the relentless cycling Gods saw fit to change their minds at the last minute. &nbsp;You see, normally, the bike tour my sister took would terminate at the Montauk train station, a venue popularized by the mind-bendingly beautiful movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. &nbsp;The new terminus was changed to the Montauk Lighthouse, over 3 extra miles to the east. &nbsp;This is actually a much more satisfying terminus when all things are considered, and I will demonstrate this in Figure 4 later. &nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, savvy readers may have noticed that this bicycle, though gorgeous and strong, is not an ideal option for riding long distances on the road. &nbsp;The tires are thick and the gearshift somewhat less than optimal. &nbsp;Nonetheless, this marvel of modern design got me there. &nbsp;It was no easy endeavor. &nbsp;Several times along the way I thought I wouldn't make it. &nbsp;Dune Road and the Ponquogue Bridge proved challenging, especially given the 10-mile per hour headwind we suffered. &nbsp;And the top of the bridge is approximately 25 miles into the journey. &nbsp;Along the said road, we witnessed a fellow cyclist completely ignore traffic and pull in front of a truck that nearly KILLED HER. &nbsp;And still we pressed on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After Dune Road, we found ourselves in the wicked heart of the Hamptons. &nbsp;We breezed through gorgeous properties spoiled by hideous affronts to architecture at the hands of the <i>nouvelle riche</i>. &nbsp;A mint condition silver 1958 Porsche driven by some ultra-affluent nobody whizzed by. &nbsp;All the while we were surrounded by the salubrious scent of ocean air, and the gorgeous flora indigenous to this peculiar eastern Long Island climate. &nbsp;Eventually we arrived in Water Mill. &nbsp;Now, one of the perks of this particular bike trail is what awaits you in Water Mill.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kFb2uNLza88/T9_YhaVbhYI/AAAAAAAAAT8/ylUKjrZv22M/s1600/watermill+pie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kFb2uNLza88/T9_YhaVbhYI/AAAAAAAAAT8/ylUKjrZv22M/s320/watermill+pie.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Fig. 3: Blueberry pie from none other than Briermere Farms.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At this point, my Rooseveltian sister put things into perspective.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"We've gone like 41 miles now, right?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Right."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"So... there's only like a trip to Patchogue and back left, yeah?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Uh-huh," punctuated by me shoving another forkful of pie into my mouth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Let's DO this."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I really owe all of my success to my sister. &nbsp;When the two of us fell from our family trees, Jessica hit EVERY good limb on the way down. &nbsp;Athletics, brains, enduring blond hair. &nbsp;She got ALL the good stuff.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I, however, missed ALL those athletic limbs, though my sister assured me that somewhere deep inside I still retained those genes. &nbsp;It was her reassuring that eventually got me to the end.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Miles away from Water Mill, we turned back onto the long stretch of Montauk highway that runs between the dunes. &nbsp;I could scarcely believe how close we were to our goal. &nbsp;The only things that remained between us and total victory were the obnoxious hills beginning at Hither Hills and rolling all the way to the architectural triumph that is the Montauk Lighthouse.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hill after hill, I kept going into lower gears. &nbsp;Professionals on their $1500 bicycles whirred past. &nbsp;Pedestrians clapped and exclaimed I was almost there. &nbsp;Every road was so familiar, so I knew there were some awful feats of gravity defying hills ahead. &nbsp;We rolled into the main part of Montauk. &nbsp;Just a few more miles to go. &nbsp;Along the way, there is a horse ranch just past a sign for Theodore Roosevelt State Park. &nbsp;I have rechristened this BITCH San Juan Hill. &nbsp;Jessica sped ahead. &nbsp;I shifted to the lowest gear possible, put my head down, prayed, and waited. &nbsp;And minutes later, I emerged at the top of that hill, my sister waiting for me. &nbsp;Just another hill away from victory.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jessica urged me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"C'mon Will! &nbsp;We're there!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Red-faced. &nbsp;Sweating. &nbsp;Thighs on fire. &nbsp;Knees sun-crisped. &nbsp;I shouted all I could.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"I'm COMING!" voice dripping with spite.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We rolled over the very last hill and, dodging an obnoxious car that seemed oblivious to the multitude of bicycles rounding Montauk Point, approaching the finish line by the Lighthouse's parking lot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Don't worry about the cars!" an onlooker shouted.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My mother whooped and hollered. &nbsp;I raised my hand and shouted, "Ja!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had made it. &nbsp;Just two years ago I was too out of shape to run a mile. &nbsp;My legs weren't conditioned enough to cycle 20 miles, much less 70. &nbsp;And there I was, downing a victory brew courtesy of Blue Point Brewery and wondering at that marvelous lighthouse.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I really owe so much of this triumph to my sister. &nbsp;Her persistence and belief in me helped me cross that finish line. &nbsp;There were times when I was sure I couldn't have made it, but she bugged and prodded and pushed and demanded until I made it. &nbsp;After 6:07 of cycling, over 7 hours with rest stops, I accomplished the greatest athletic achievement in my life. &nbsp;And my beloved Montauk acted as the finish line.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hrioGLCI-LA/T9_Yel6qfdI/AAAAAAAAATk/f1gQNJm1D5U/s1600/montauk+finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hrioGLCI-LA/T9_Yel6qfdI/AAAAAAAAATk/f1gQNJm1D5U/s320/montauk+finish.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Fig. 4: (as promised) No, as my shirt suggests, Montauk did not mysteriously "end" in 1660. &nbsp;It still exists, though portions of Camp Hero were lost during time travel experiments in the 1940s. &nbsp;But that's another blog entry altogether, isn't it?</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If I ever leave the general area of Long Island, I can't really express how much I'd miss it. &nbsp;When you look past the spray tans and Jägermeister and soccer families and entitlement, Long Island proves a really wonderful place.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now I really want to go clamming again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">All right, now that I've gotten that off my chest, I'll get back in the saddle. &nbsp;In the next two entries, expect haikus created by my friends with an AMAZING card game and my own redesign of the New York State flag because of my love of the state flag of Hawai'i.</div><div><br /></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-35873717153942614912012-04-24T18:49:00.001-04:002012-04-24T19:58:26.056-04:00The Ten People Who Must be Resurrected by Science or Magick...Let us turn our hearts of stone away from the pressing matters of the day. &nbsp;Today I finished watching the fantastic miniseries Cosmos: A Personal Voyage by the incomparably brilliant Carl Sagan. &nbsp;I truly believe that if everyone on this planet were to watch Cosmos with an open mind, the world would be an infinitely brighter and more peaceful place. &nbsp;Sagan's main goal through Cosmos was to make people wonder at the universe around them - to inspire us to think about not only ourselves, but for our posterity. &nbsp;It is essentially a warning that the escalating Cold War would inevitably lead to the Earth's death in nuclear fire. &nbsp;Though the Cold War has ended, only slightly outdating his message, and though some of the elements of cosmology have been explained more thoroughly thanks to scientific breakthroughs in the subsequent decades since Cosmos's release, the message is still strong. &nbsp;Still today we worry about North Korea's nuclear proliferation. &nbsp;And the United States still sits upon a ludicrously large stockpile of thermonuclear weapons. &nbsp;Sagan's ability to make science and cosmology accessible to the average viewer shows the depths of his genius. &nbsp;He died at the age of 62 from&nbsp;myelodysplasia. &nbsp;As far as I'm concerned, he was not on this planet nearly long enough for a man of his intellect with such a fantastic message. &nbsp;So I got to thinking - who are the people that must be brought back from the dead by either science or magick? &nbsp;Mind you, when I say that I want these people back from the dead, I want them back in pristine condition; not as a decaying zombie corpse. &nbsp;Yeesh... that would be awful. &nbsp;I here present, in no particular order:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Ten People Who Must Be Resurrected By Science or Magick</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-agdtuzkUJ4Q/T5QJLajmRwI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VnVmhlMap0s/s1600/Tesla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-agdtuzkUJ4Q/T5QJLajmRwI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VnVmhlMap0s/s320/Tesla.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Nikola Tesla* <br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I lied about this list being in no particular order. &nbsp;Now, there is a very good reason that I decided to bring back Nikola Tesla first. &nbsp;All evidence suggests that Tesla was actually a time traveler from the future. &nbsp;How else could you explain how someone invented long range energy transfer, the vacuum tube, the x-ray, fluorescent lighting AND THE GODDAMNED DEATH RAY, all before his death in 1943. &nbsp;Imagine what Tesla could have done if he were born in the modern era! &nbsp;There's no reason we wouldn't already have moon bases, flying cars and teleportation if Tesla were around in the 80s. &nbsp;And I've chosen to resurrect him simply because with his extraterrestrial scientific powers, he could easily invent a machine that help me to corporeally resurrects all the others on this list.</div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V2g3ZW-nnFc/T5QJK15AJaI/AAAAAAAAAPU/2PXUwnpWjYo/s1600/Sagan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V2g3ZW-nnFc/T5QJK15AJaI/AAAAAAAAAPU/2PXUwnpWjYo/s320/Sagan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Dr. Carl Sagan<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I've already discussed Sagan's genius. &nbsp;There's tale that modern day crank cum cosmologist Neil DeGrasse Tyson will be piloting a modernized series of Cosmos with updated knowledge of life, the universe, and everything. &nbsp;I can guarantee that NO ONE will watch this series if Dr. Tyson doesn't wear a burgundy turtleneck and brown corduroy jacket.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ma0JKEF4mGw/T5QJJGWe6dI/AAAAAAAAAO8/5v3CDP6EdzI/s1600/Hypatia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ma0JKEF4mGw/T5QJJGWe6dI/AAAAAAAAAO8/5v3CDP6EdzI/s320/Hypatia.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Hypatia<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Hypatia was the first renowned woman in the field of mathematics, and she happened to be the last Librarian of the Library of Alexandria. &nbsp;Because she was a woman, she was a natural target in the entirely male-dominated world of antiquity. &nbsp;As the guardian of all ancient knowledge, she also became a target from the Catholic Church, whose adherents at the time viewed all scientific learning as magic. &nbsp;Hypatia was no doubt seen as a witch in her time, and the Bishop of Alexandria, Cyril, was her greatest enemy. &nbsp;On her way to work during Lent in the year 415 AD, she was beset upon by a mob of Cyril's disciples. &nbsp;They dragged her through the street until she was dead, flayed the flesh from her body either by abalone shells or the tiles from the Caesareum, and was burned. &nbsp;Hypatia is largely forgotten and Cyril was made a Saint. &nbsp;There's something awfully revolting about that. &nbsp;I wonder how the history of women might be different if Hypatia were allowed to live a peaceful, natural life. &nbsp;</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ez8uXSKjTZY/T5cUe-W2MtI/AAAAAAAAAP0/tl45JWvb3KQ/s1600/Lincoln.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ez8uXSKjTZY/T5cUe-W2MtI/AAAAAAAAAP0/tl45JWvb3KQ/s320/Lincoln.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;President Abraham Lincoln<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">This blog entry would have been finished about three days ago if it weren't for the man ponderously posing for the above portrait. &nbsp;I knew that I had to resurrect a single President, and I struggled to decide upon a single one. &nbsp;I thought about Polk, for his ability to create and agenda and fulfill it in just four years. &nbsp;Then I thought about the fiery Jackson, but deemed him too controversial a figure to return to the mortal realm. &nbsp;The Roosevelt family produced two fabulous Presidents, and I considered cheating and using science to create a genetic hybrid of Theodore and Franklin that would encapsulate all the incredible things of both the Republican AND Democratic Parties! &nbsp;But in the end, it was Abraham Lincoln who eventually earned the privilege of a date with the Tesla Concentrated Aether Resurrect-o-Matic Device! &nbsp;Why? &nbsp;Is it his gift for parsimonious, elegaic prose? &nbsp;Is it the steadfastness and resolve (not to mention disregard for the Constitution) he exhibited in effort to keep the United States united? &nbsp;Yes. &nbsp;Lincoln &nbsp;is the one President that I think this Country unanimously admires and wishes back from the dead. &nbsp;Of course, the moonshine producing, backwood hick counties of the scourged, carpet-bagger ridden South are exempt from this statement.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qf7Ft-MZUQk/T5QJL0JPQTI/AAAAAAAAAPk/wnTGbQNuXUY/s1600/Twain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qf7Ft-MZUQk/T5QJL0JPQTI/AAAAAAAAAPk/wnTGbQNuXUY/s320/Twain.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Mark Twain</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I wonder how the country might be different if Mark Twain were to go on a speaking tour through the modern United States. &nbsp;Perhaps his crankiness and wit would become a widespread epidemic, infecting people all over the nation until everyone develops the propensity for writing brilliant American odysseys, sitting in rocking chairs, smoking cigars, and complaining about Theodore Roosevelt not letting angry women into the White House. &nbsp;I believe that Mark Twain perfectly encapsulates what America ought to be: angry, sarcastic, intelligent, cranky, self-reflecting, and poorly groomed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7ovTbVpoIK0/T5QJHC_tyLI/AAAAAAAAAOc/UhL3qiqVLUQ/s1600/Beethoven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7ovTbVpoIK0/T5QJHC_tyLI/AAAAAAAAAOc/UhL3qiqVLUQ/s320/Beethoven.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ludwig van Beethoven<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">In lieu of writing a lengthy defense of Beethoven's resurrection, I instead offer the following piece of music. &nbsp;Tell me that this man shouldn't live another thousand years and bring such beauty to the world.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4uOxOgm5jQ4" width="560"></iframe></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K6u6tTWBrDg/T5QJHnJl9bI/AAAAAAAAAOk/ZtpN3Qk6okU/s1600/Child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K6u6tTWBrDg/T5QJHnJl9bI/AAAAAAAAAOk/ZtpN3Qk6okU/s320/Child.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Julia Child<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Julia Child continues to inspire the common person to venture into his or her own kitchen and make something for themselves. &nbsp;Modern "food television" can't even hold a candle to this Valkyrie of the gastronomic world. &nbsp;Talentless hacks like <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/rachael-ray/late-night-bacon-recipe/index.html">Rachael Ray</a>, <a href="http://foodnetworkhumor.com/2009/08/dumb-guy-fieri-recipe-names/">Guy Fieri</a>, <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/paula-deen/english-peas-recipe/index.html">Paula Deen</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLMNZ6xY6YY">Sandra Lee</a>, get away with teaching Americans how to mindlessly drool in front of a television and occasionally make Neanderthalic grunts. &nbsp;Julia Child taught you how to ROAST A GODDAMNED CHICKEN. &nbsp;Julia Child taught you how to BAKE A GODDAMNED SOUFFLÉ! &nbsp;Julia Child taught you how to HANDLE A GODDAMNED KITCHEN KNIFE! &nbsp;Julia Child taught me and several generations of home cooks that even the most complicated of techniques are possible with study, patience, and bold curiosity.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cCjo6-idiGQ/T5QJMiqOZCI/AAAAAAAAAPs/4dbMqJVpJXo/s1600/king.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cCjo6-idiGQ/T5QJMiqOZCI/AAAAAAAAAPs/4dbMqJVpJXo/s320/king.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Perhaps no other American showed such eloquence and power with the English language as did Dr. King. &nbsp;With his pen and his tongue and the lessons of other peaceful protesters, Dr. King sought to change this country. &nbsp;He highlighted the hypocrisy of a country that fought a war against Jewish racism in Europe, but refused to allow black men and women to drink from the same water fountains or attend the same schools as whites. &nbsp;Who knows how depraved and oppressive the country may still have been if it weren't for what this man did for the nation. &nbsp;And perhaps no speech given in America is as well remembered and quoted as the one he gave on August 28, 1963.<br /><br /></div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1UV1fs8lAbg" width="420"></iframe></center><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I can't help but wonder how Dr. King might inspire and change the country today if he were still alive.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ULrM8Tt4U0g/T5cmuIb7UkI/AAAAAAAAAP8/sCvuZUWfM-w/s1600/Earhart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ULrM8Tt4U0g/T5cmuIb7UkI/AAAAAAAAAP8/sCvuZUWfM-w/s1600/Earhart.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Amelia Earhart<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">A renaissance woman if ever one existed. &nbsp;Earhart dared the country to think differently about women. &nbsp;The sad fact is that girl nowadays really don't have people to look up to. &nbsp;DO NOT GET ME WRONG. &nbsp;In the modern era, there is a deluge of fantastically brilliant women that girls OUGHT to look up to. &nbsp;Hillary Clinton, Madeline Albright, Michelle Obama, Angela Merkel populate this list. &nbsp;But honestly, they lack a certain something that young girls want to aspire to be. &nbsp;Instead the media forces upon them the likes of Snooki, Bratz dolls, Katy Perry, and Rihanna (young girls really ought to know that it's NOT okay to return to an abusive boyfriend). &nbsp;Amelia Earhart is someone that today's young girls can really marvel at: smart, nonconformist, brave, daring, badass, fearless and not to mention fashionable! &nbsp;Hell, not only young girls should look up to and try to emulate her. &nbsp;If she were alive today, I've no doubt she'd be gunning to be the first woman - hell the first PERSON - to set foot on Mars. &nbsp;We need more daredevils like her.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>&nbsp; <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6Yqccfhpk6o/T5QJIm59oKI/AAAAAAAAAO0/eoWDBDMqN2s/s1600/Franklin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6Yqccfhpk6o/T5QJIm59oKI/AAAAAAAAAO0/eoWDBDMqN2s/s320/Franklin.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Benjamin Franklin<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Dr. Franklin was a goddamned wizard. &nbsp;If you have any arguments to the contrary, you are wrong. &nbsp;Look at what this man did:</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;">Invented the Franklin stove, bifocals, the lightning rod, an improved rocking chair, a glass armonica &amp;c...</li><li style="text-align: left;">Created the first free lending library in America</li><li style="text-align: left;">Established fire departments in America</li><li style="text-align: left;">Founded the University of Pennsylvania</li><li style="text-align: left;">Was the first Postmaster General</li><li style="text-align: left;">Ambassador to England and Minister to France</li><li style="text-align: left;">Printed several newspapers under various pseudonyms</li><li style="text-align: left;">Created some of the first public works programs including street lighting and paved roads</li><li style="text-align: left;">Wrote treatises on the nature of electricity</li></ul><div><div style="text-align: left;">The list just goes on and on. &nbsp;Benjamin Franklin might not be the polymath the world wants, but he's the polymath that the world needs.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">____________________________________________________</div></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: left;">So there you have it. &nbsp;These are the 10 people that I'd bring back to the mortal coil. &nbsp;Oh! &nbsp;I forgot to bring up a couple of honorable mentions...</div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x0F4Z90hZrc/T5QJKIWQttI/AAAAAAAAAPM/FpUVMTybq10/s1600/Moynihan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x0F4Z90hZrc/T5QJKIWQttI/AAAAAAAAAPM/FpUVMTybq10/s320/Moynihan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp; <br />Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">This should go <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPxkJZsz4Kc">without saying</a>.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_MIS7IV6Voc/T5QJIBu6zwI/AAAAAAAAAOs/jE-sOJYJ5xA/s1600/Edison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_MIS7IV6Voc/T5QJIBu6zwI/AAAAAAAAAOs/jE-sOJYJ5xA/s320/Edison.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />*Tho. Edison <br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Now, I definitely wouldn't bring this awful bastard back from the dead. &nbsp;Lord knows I'll never forgive him for<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RkBU3aYsf0Q"> electrocuting an elephant</a> just to prove how much awesomer his direct current was than Nikola Tesla's alternating current. &nbsp;I just have a feeling that the resurrected Tesla couldn't help himself BUT to bring Edison back from the dead, if only to engage the Braggart of Menlo Park in a science match to the DEATH. &nbsp;We all know who would win in that fight.</div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Discussion: I took great pains in choosing just 10 people that I would resurrect from the dead in order to save this world. &nbsp;And after all the thought I put into it, I can't help but feel embarrassed by a few remarks about the chosen people that cannot be ignored. &nbsp;First and foremost, I noticed that the list is overwhelmingly American. &nbsp;This I attribute to my own American-centric view of the world. &nbsp;It's been instilled in me since the very beginnings of my education, and I apologize for not being able to look beyond it. &nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;">Second, the list is overwhelmingly male. &nbsp;This I wrestled with and asked my wife about repeatedly - but she was too busy not caring about my awesome blog to give any insight beyond, "There aren't many women on your list." &nbsp;Thanks hon. &nbsp;How do I write off this obvious oversight on my part? &nbsp;Once again I blame history. &nbsp;While I did major in history, I did not major in women's history, or as some ridiculous academics like to call it - herstory. &nbsp;Honestly, women are often given secondary or tertiary roles in historical anecdotes. &nbsp;Only now in the modern era are we approaching a time when awesome women are getting their due respect. &nbsp;Perhaps in 20 years when I look back on this blog, I will have a list comprising 7 women and 3 men! &nbsp;Unfortunately, it's not 20 years from now, and I once again apologize for my own current shortcomings.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Thirdly, the list is overwhelmingly white. &nbsp;Once again I blame my education and the limited time I've spent on multicultural studies. &nbsp;I just don't know enough about heroes and legendary eccentrics from Africa, Asia or Latin America. &nbsp;So once again I blame the culture I was raised in and beg forgiveness.</div><div style="text-align: left;">For anyone so outraged by my list that they see fit to correct my oversights, please provide your own list of resurrection candidates replete with persons of a more mixed variety of sexes and cultures!</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-26790302213856631812012-04-18T16:36:00.000-04:002012-04-18T16:45:17.391-04:00More on Food Stamp Abuse, And Why I Hate My Neighborhood...I've already made it clear that I'm entirely against the <a href="http://billchas.blogspot.com/2011/01/epistle-wrought-by-victim-of.html">abuse of the food stamp system</a>. &nbsp;It is an extremely costly pestilence in modern America, at least in the mythical wonder kingdom that is Crown Heights, Brooklyn. &nbsp;In the entry I linked to earlier, I showed how people buying prepared foods (specifically $6 sandwiches) and are wasting taxpayer money, when they could instead use the money allotted them to buy the ingredients to make SEVERAL sandwiches, thereby saving a conservative estimate of $4.73. &nbsp;After I wrote the said entry, I spoke with a friend of mine who upon last check currently lives among the pacifist Pennsylvania Quakers. &nbsp;She brought to my attention that there is indeed something gravely wrong with the food stamp system, when a whole roast chicken ($4.99 this week at Key Food) which can feed 3 people and certainly nutritious cannot be purchased with an EBT card. &nbsp;One may however go ahead and buy Little Debbie's Oatmeal Creme Pies and Coca Cola, which are the nutritive equivalent of a barren ice world at the edge of a solar system.<br />Clearly something is wrong there.<br />One can witness this kind of gross spending of taxpayer money any day, especially in Brooklyn. &nbsp;And the worst part is that this is entirely legal. &nbsp;The USDA's Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) actually&nbsp;<a href="http://www.fns.usda.gov/snap/retailers/eligible.htm">has a website</a>&nbsp;dedicated to items that &nbsp;are and aren't eligible through their program. &nbsp;It explicitly states that soft drinks, candy, cookies, snack crackers and ice cream are all eligible in the program. &nbsp;These are listed at known junk foods. &nbsp;Steaks and seafood and even bakery cakes are also covered by SNAP, though they are listed at luxury items. &nbsp;Now, it seems to me that if you're really strapped for money and trying to eke out a living with your family, you'd want to make sure that your family was eating all of their necessary nutrients. &nbsp;While steaks and seafood may be counted as luxury items, there's no question that they are much better purchases than soda and junk food when it comes to pure nutritional value. &nbsp;How bakery cakes are considered eligible food items in the SNAP program is BEYOND ME.<br />The problem is that some stores simply don't adhere to the guidelines of the food benefits programs. &nbsp;In the example I brought up in my previous entry, I noticed that a woman purchased a deli-prepared sandwich for $6.25. &nbsp;This was actually "okay" by the manager, even though prepared food items like sandwiches aren't covered by EBT. &nbsp;But I never really thought at the time about how the store got away with letting the woman purchase the sandwich with her card. &nbsp;And then I found out exactly how stores get away with it.<br />The other week I was in the Associated Supermarket on Nostrand Avenue. &nbsp;We repeatedly have trouble with this store and the food benefits abuse that goes on in it. &nbsp;It's not uncommon to stand in line while customers fight with the cashiers over what they can and cannot buy with their EBT cards. &nbsp;The woman in front of me had a large number of items on the conveyor belt. &nbsp;Several of them were not covered by the EBT program, and the woman was visibly disgruntled by this fact. &nbsp;After more complaining from the customer, the cashier voided the items from the woman's original transaction and swiped the EBT card. &nbsp;Transaction complete. &nbsp;Right after that, she rang up all of the non-EBT eligible groceries as "assorted groceries." &nbsp;Apparently any item labeled "assorted groceries" may be purchased with the EBT card. &nbsp;Thus with two transactions, the woman got away with purchasing a whole bunch of items that CANNOT BE PURCHASED WITH EBT.<br />Now, what brought on this long, uncharacteristic tirade about food stamp abuse in my neighborhood? &nbsp;Well, it may have something to do with the fact that someone in my neighborhood recently stole my debit card information to make an $1,106.16 purchase from the Microsoft store. &nbsp;With neighbors like this, who needs enemies? &nbsp;Expect full coverage of my dealings with identity theft when I hear more from the detectives of Brooklyn's 71st Precinct!BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-12148382750595859502012-03-21T21:52:00.001-04:002012-03-25T08:59:05.319-04:00In Which I Prove That I Chose the Correct Party AffiliationLike every American, I occasionally wonder whether I chose the correct party when I registered to vote.&nbsp; In this age of dangerous rifts between parties, it's not uncommon for people to be chastised for being "too Republican" or "too Democratic."&nbsp; Equally unfortunate is the fact that under the current trends of political thought, any registered Democrat is immediately labelled something like a atheist Massachusetts college-educated liberal.&nbsp; Contrarily, any registered Republican is considered a NASCAR redneck evangelical Reaganite.&nbsp; The greatest threat this ideology poses to America is that the classic Moderate in either party is seen as siding with the enemy.&nbsp; Why is this?&nbsp; What happened in America that caused such a massive break between the parties?&nbsp; Why is bipartisan cooperation considered such an evil?&nbsp; Why can't we all just be a little bit more like, YOU GUESSED IT:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cip0wOCLMWM/T2p7MyWYuLI/AAAAAAAAAI4/RWGZ39g9qjQ/s1600/Moynihan+bowtie" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cip0wOCLMWM/T2p7MyWYuLI/AAAAAAAAAI4/RWGZ39g9qjQ/s320/Moynihan+bowtie" width="261" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 1: DANIEL PATRICK EFFIN' MOYNIHAN, that's who!</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I consider this break in the parties to be one of the greatest faults in American history.&nbsp; There is something fundamentally wrong with a system that encourages schism and denounces thoughtful cooperation.&nbsp; Abraham Lincoln said something about a house divided against itself being unable to stand.&nbsp; I'm relatively certain he wasn't conveying his understanding of architecture when he offered this warning.&nbsp; History has already proven that when bipartisanship entirely separates the parties, something awful like say a Civil War can break out.</div><div style="text-align: left;">As of right now, I'm a registered Democrat in New York State.&nbsp; That's almost like saying that I'm a human being that breathes oxygen apparently.&nbsp; This wasn't always the case however.&nbsp; A younger, more foolish BillChas did something very silly on February 25th of 2002.&nbsp; It was the day after I turned 18.&nbsp; I couldn't technically register to vote on my birthday, as it fell on a Sunday that year.&nbsp; New York is a funny state, in that you may choose from the following parties upon registration:&nbsp;</div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Democratic party</li><li>Republican party</li><li>Conservative party</li><li>Working Families party</li><li>Independence party*</li><li>Green party</li></ul><div style="text-align: left;">*-Note that this oughtn't be confused with registering independent!&nbsp; The Independence party is that of failed Presidential candidate H. Ross Perot, which consists mainly of billionaire libertarians.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then there is of course the option of registering Independent or filling in your own political party, for those remaining Know-Nothings, Whigs, Bull-Mooses and Jedi among us.&nbsp; I, a young and stupid idealist, blindly put a check mark next to Green party.&nbsp; One day I received a literature in the mail from the Green party which illuminated, in shockingly disgusting detail, how the terrorist attacks of September 11th, 2001 were orchestrated and carried out by our own government.&nbsp; Naturally, I found this so despicable that I went down to the Sayville Post Office at my earliest convenience to change my party affiliation.&nbsp; Ever since I have been a Democrat.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And why shouldn't I have registered Democratic?&nbsp; There have been many fine Democrats in our time: Franklin D. Roosevelt, Bill Clinton and DANIEL PATRICK MOYNIHAN just to name a few.&nbsp; But I cannot help but wonder if I did make the right decision.&nbsp; Several of my favorite politicians have been Republicans.&nbsp; Theodore Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln and Dwight Eisenhower, the ferocious graduate of West Point and Commander of the Allied Forces come to mind.&nbsp; And here's where the moronic of our number pipe in and issue some pithy <i>ex cathedra</i> statement about "Ooh... but the Parties have changed throughout the years!&nbsp; Some Democrats would be considered Republicans nowadays and blah blah blah blah..."&nbsp; Well, I'll have none of your armchair, barstool political thought!&nbsp; Try telling Abraham Lincoln that he was a Democrat!&nbsp; If that were the case, then John Wilkes Booth most likely wouldn't have seen fit to lodge a bullet in Our Beloved President's brilliant skull.&nbsp; I care NOT for your modern political thought!&nbsp; These presidents were the HEADS of the parties they ran under.&nbsp; And I won't listen to your inane ramblings any longer.</div><div style="text-align: left;">So how does one decide if he or she has made the right decision when selecting a political party?&nbsp; It's a tough call.&nbsp; But I did come up with a method for seeing if you've made the right choice.&nbsp; How is it done?&nbsp; Simple.&nbsp; By the way, I came up with this method while I was pondering the most forgotten and underrated President in History:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8FWqnSJwUAI/T2qFmtRS7lI/AAAAAAAAAJA/YkPDtoeF0xM/s1600/jas+k+polk" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8FWqnSJwUAI/T2qFmtRS7lI/AAAAAAAAAJA/YkPDtoeF0xM/s320/jas+k+polk" width="244" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Fig. 2: Mr. James K. Polk, Napoleon of the Stump</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">Make a list of every President of the United States of America.&nbsp; Research each of their Presidencies, including decisions they made, how the country fared during their Presidency, and to what degree you agree with how they saw fit to run the country.&nbsp; Now, you might run into a few snags.&nbsp; You'll note that there are four Whigs, at least one Federalist, one awesome God-like war hero that refused to join a political party on the grounds that it might cause a great rife in the nation (and yes, George Washington was a goddamned Prophet) and several Democratic-Republicans in the mix.&nbsp; YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO CONSIDER THESE PRESIDENCIES.&nbsp; These parties no longer exist.&nbsp; We cannot retroactively assign Jefferson to the Democratic Party.&nbsp; Nor can we lump the Adamses in with the Republicans.&nbsp; You may as well skip all the way down to Andrew Jackson, THE FIRST AND MOST BLOOD THIRSTY DEMOCRAT, and begin your counting there - of course skipping all Whigs you may come upon.</div><div style="text-align: left;">For each of those Presidencies, use the following scale to assign a positive or negative number:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">+2 = One of the most fantastical Presidencies that all Presidents should strive to emulate.</div><div style="text-align: left;">+1 = A fine and model President!&nbsp; Job well done!</div><div style="text-align: left;">0 = I care nothing about what this President did, and I don't see how the country would be much different without this person's Presidency.</div><div style="text-align: left;">-1 = Oh come on!&nbsp; You can do better than this!&nbsp; You're the president for cripes sake!&nbsp; Do something good, will ya?</div><div style="text-align: left;">-2 = Ran the country into the ground and ought to have the title of Mr President posthumously stripped from them.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I did this.&nbsp; And I was surprised with the results.&nbsp; Now one must bear in mind that there have been slightly more Republicans than there have been Democrats.&nbsp; Honestly though, there is a whole slew of Republican Presidents that even modern-day Republicans wish never existed.&nbsp; You can omit these Presidents (Hayes, Garfield, Arthur) should you so choose, and suddenly the playing field is once again equal.&nbsp; Here is how my scores came out:<br /><br /><span style="color: #999999;">Gray</span>: Federalist<br /><span style="color: #38761d;">Green</span>: Democratic-Republican<br /><span style="color: yellow;">Yellow</span>: Whig<br /><span style="color: #0b5394;">Blue</span>: Democrat<br /><span style="color: red;">Red</span>: Republican <br />&nbsp; <style><!--table {mso-displayed-decimal-separator:"\."; mso-displayed-thousand-separator:"\,";} @page {margin:1.0in .75in 1.0in .75in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in;} td {padding-top:1px; padding-right:1px; padding-left:1px; mso-ignore:padding; color:black; font-size:12.0pt; font-weight:400; font-style:normal; text-decoration:none; font-family:Calibri, sans-serif; mso-font-charset:0; mso-number-format:General; text-align:general; vertical-align:bottom; border:none; mso-background-source:auto; mso-pattern:auto; mso-protection:locked visible; white-space:nowrap; mso-rotate:0;} .xl63 {border:.5pt solid windowtext; background:#BFBFBF; mso-pattern:black none;} .xl64 {border:.5pt solid windowtext; background:green; mso-pattern:black none;} .xl65 {color:#EEECE1; font-family:Calibri; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-charset:0; border:.5pt solid windowtext; background:#1F497D; mso-pattern:black none;} .xl66 {border:.5pt solid windowtext; background:yellow; mso-pattern:black none;} .xl67 {border:.5pt solid windowtext; background:red; mso-pattern:black none;} .xl68 {font-style:italic; font-family:Calibri; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-charset:0; border:.5pt solid windowtext; background:white; mso-pattern:black none;} .xl69 {font-style:italic; font-family:Calibri; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-charset:0; text-align:center; border:.5pt solid windowtext; background:white; mso-pattern:black none;} .xl70 {text-align:center; border:.5pt solid windowtext; background:white; mso-pattern:black none;} .xl71 {border:.5pt solid windowtext; background:white; mso-pattern:black none;} --></style> <br /><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 372px;"> <colgroup><col style="mso-width-alt: 5290; mso-width-source: userset; width: 124pt;" width="124"></col> <col style="mso-width-alt: 3754; mso-width-source: userset; width: 88pt;" width="88"></col> <col style="mso-width-alt: 3328; mso-width-source: userset; width: 78pt;" width="78"></col> <col style="mso-width-alt: 3498; mso-width-source: userset; width: 82pt;" width="82"></col> </colgroup><tbody><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl68" height="15" style="height: 15.0pt; width: 124pt;" width="124">PRESIDENT NAME</td> <td class="xl69" style="border-left: none; width: 88pt;" width="88">Republican</td> <td class="xl69" style="border-left: none; width: 78pt;" width="78">Democrat</td> <td class="xl69" style="border-left: none; width: 82pt;" width="82">Neither</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl71" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">George Washington</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl63" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">John Adams</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+1</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl64" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Thomas Jefferson</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl64" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">James Madison</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+1</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl64" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">James Monroe</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+1</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl64" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">John Q. Adams</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-1</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Andrew Jackson</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Martin Van Buren</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">0</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl66" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">William Henry Harrison</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">0</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl66" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">John Tyler</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+1</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">James K. Polk</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl66" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Zachary Taylor</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-1</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl66" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Millard Fillmore</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-1</td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Franklin Pierce</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">James Buchanan</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Abraham Lincoln</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Andrew Johnson</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Ulysses S. Grant</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Rutherford B. Hayes</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-1</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">James A. Garfield</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Chester A. Arthur</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">0</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Grover Cleveland</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-1</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Benjamin Harrison</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">0</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Grover Cleveland</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">0</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">William McKinley</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-1</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Theodore Roosevelt</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">William Taft</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-1</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Woodrow Wilson*</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Warren G. Harding</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Calvin Coolidge</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">0</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Herbert Hoover</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Franklin D. Roosevelt</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Harry S Truman</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+1</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Dwight Eisenhower</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">John F. Kennedy</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+1</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Lyndon B. Johnson</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Richard Nixon</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Gerald Ford</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Jimmy Carter</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">0</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Ronald Reagan</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">George H.W. Bush</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">0</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Bill Clinton</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">+2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl67" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">George W. Bush</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">-2</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl65" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;">Barack Obama</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">0</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;"></td> </tr><tr height="15" style="height: 15.0pt;"> <td class="xl71" height="15" style="border-top: none; height: 15.0pt;"></td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">Total: -5</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">Total: +4</td> <td class="xl70" style="border-left: none; border-top: none;">Total: +5</td> </tr></tbody></table><br />All Republicans together resulted in a total of -5 points, meaning that, as a whole, the Republican Party has produced a net of nearly THREE miserable failures of a Presidency.&nbsp; On the other hand, the Democrats have produced a net of TWO divine leaders that have brought about a Pax Americana in their theoretical times.&nbsp; Even the hodgepodge of mixed political parties from throughout history far outshine the Republican presidents, even if one is to completely omit the abysmal triumvirate of Hayes, Garfield &amp; Arthur.<br />I've clearly chosen wisely.&nbsp; Are my points awarded skewed by my political beliefs?&nbsp; That is entirely for the Court of the World to decide.&nbsp; For my money however, I can rest easy knowing that I categorically proved that I chose the correct political party, at least where the Presidency is concerned.&nbsp; Try it and share your results!<br /><br />* - Please note that I made an egregious error when I was translating my work from paper to Excel.&nbsp; I originally posted that Woodrow Wilson received a +1.&nbsp; My friend Alex pointed out that he found it odd that I gave Wilson a positive number at all, being that Wilson was famous for re-segregating the White House, endorsing the message in D.W. Griffith's <i>The Birth of a Nation</i>, needlessly dragging the country into World War I, and failed to garner Republican support for the centerpiece of his Fourteen Points, the League of Nations.&nbsp; On paper I originally gave Wilson -1, but after some careful consideration and more insight from Alex, I have decided to give President Wilson -2.&nbsp; This means that Democratic Presidents have earned a net of +4.&nbsp; I have adjusted my analysis to reflect this.&nbsp; Isn't that the beauty of this method?&nbsp; I imagine that if I were to try this exercise 20 years from now, I'd probably get different results.</div></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-28487640295939830642012-03-01T20:25:00.004-05:002012-03-22T18:23:50.748-04:00BUY WAR BONDS!What a travesty.&nbsp; According to reliable sources, I haven't updated this weblog since June of 2011.&nbsp; Why is this such a travesty?&nbsp; I cannot even begin to atone for not recording all the fantastical events of my life in the past 8 or so months.&nbsp; What in the hell has happened in all that time.<br />Well, for one, Maria and I were married.&nbsp; You know, no big deal.&nbsp; I've noticed that an awful lot of traffic for this website comes from the multitudes of other fancy gentlemen wishing to look like Atticus Finch and where to find a tie with a whale pattern.&nbsp; It just so happens that both of those search criteria will land you on my blog entries pertaining to how I'd like to dress for the wedding.&nbsp; The votes were cast and the whale tie won.&nbsp; And what of the seersucker suit?&nbsp; Was I able to do the legendary Southern lawyer a good turn?&nbsp; I leave that for the Court of the World to decide:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rOoh2C7lQaY/T1AeyDfFDDI/AAAAAAAAAIk/C2RUdlBVRTA/s1600/wedding+suit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rOoh2C7lQaY/T1AeyDfFDDI/AAAAAAAAAIk/C2RUdlBVRTA/s320/wedding+suit.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Fig. 1: This style brought to you by J. Press and its finest salesman, Mark Clark.&nbsp; And under the advice of one Jon Meier, who then proceeded to buy me very expensive cocktails at the Algonquin to stave off the panic attack triggered by the ludicrous amount of money I dropped on a suit.&nbsp; And still it was outshone by the ethereal brilliance of my bride.&nbsp; To quote Mary Poppins, "That's as it should be."</i> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Anyhow, I really do enjoy updating this thing.&nbsp; And I also enjoy the minute of fame the entry pertaining to Oscar the Grouch's Timelordship brought me.&nbsp; And look, I even have a sticky on my desktop with all the thoughts on VERY IMPORTANT MATTERS that I wanted to share with the interweb.&nbsp; I here share the contents of that sticky:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">-Wedding </div><div style="text-align: left;">-Clamming</div><div style="text-align: left;">-Boston / J. Press</div><div style="text-align: left;">-UConn Dairy Bar</div><div style="text-align: left;">-Moynihan Tufts</div><div style="text-align: left;">-Comparing cameras</div><div style="text-align: left;">-5 things I'd do with a time machine</div><div style="text-align: left;">&nbsp;&gt;1964 World's Fair</div><div style="text-align: left;">&nbsp;&gt;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And that's it.&nbsp; A lone "greater than" sign is where I left off.&nbsp; And OH the wonderful stories that could be&nbsp; told about all the things I wrote on the sticky.&nbsp; I will discuss all these topics (with the exception of our INCREDIBLE wedding - because a blurb could scarcely do it justice) VERY QUICKLY RIGHT NOW.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I intended to talk about the new jargon invented by the roughest, toughest bunch of clammers the Great South Bay ever saw.&nbsp; Because of my neglect, perhaps no one will know what a braggart's dozen is.&nbsp; Centuries from now, English speakers will be entirely ignorant of that fact that placing clams in a bucket ought to be referred to as "making a deposit," meaning that a handful of clams ought to be referred to as a "deposit."&nbsp; I ought to at least make these precious gems of the English language look fancy!&nbsp; In fact I will right now:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>deposit </i>\di-POZ-it\</div><div style="text-align: left;">noun</div><div style="text-align: left;">1. a number of clams that fits in two hands... and possibly in your swim trunks as well: <i>Seany Mikes placed an incredible deposit of clams into the bucket... and then chugged like 4 Miller High Lifes to celebrate.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>braggart's dozen </i>\BRAG-ertz&nbsp; DUH-zin\</div><div style="text-align: left;">noun<i>&nbsp;</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">1. Seven or eight clams: <i>Derek claimed he gleaned 48 clams from the murky waters of the Great South Bay, when he in fact only retrieved a braggarts dozen.&nbsp; That didn't stop him from eating all the clams anyway.&nbsp; Asshole.</i></div><br /><br />As for Boston and J. Press - I was going to compare the Harvard Square store to the Madison Avenue store.&nbsp; That doesn't seem as interesting in retrospect.&nbsp; Moving on.<br /><br />UConn Dairy Bar.&nbsp; It's a magical place that we stopped at on our way back from Boston to visit our friend Alex. Um... it was.&nbsp; Magical.&nbsp; Once again, loses its luster in hindsight.&nbsp; It was probably the most fantastic strawberry ice cream I've ever tasted.<br /><br />Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan attended Tufts for both his Master and Doctorate.&nbsp; Also, I found this picture of him.&nbsp; DPM is the OFFICIAL mascot of The Elegance of Humanity in America.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oljxlfe__WM/T1AcgqdlCtI/AAAAAAAAAIc/5vM3fa9x3Wc/s1600/daniel+patrick+moynihan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oljxlfe__WM/T1AcgqdlCtI/AAAAAAAAAIc/5vM3fa9x3Wc/s320/daniel+patrick+moynihan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Fig. 2: The Gentleman from New York.</i></div><br />I was going to compare my Mamiya C220 photos with those from my shitty Diana plastic hipster piece of shit.&nbsp; But I have yet to make prints from ANY of these rolls of film.&nbsp; Also, FAR TOO HIPSTERY.<br /><br />Five things I'd do with a Time Machine.&nbsp; Oh god, I don't think I'd be able to hew this down to only 5 events.&nbsp; And... FINE, quickly!&nbsp; The first five that come to mind!<br /><ol><li>&nbsp;The 1964 World's Fair.</li><li>The meetings of the First Continental Congress.</li><li>Abraham Lincoln doing SOMETHING awesome.&nbsp; I mean, for him that could mean something as menial as shaving for God's sake.</li><li>&nbsp;The primordial soup mix that created life on Earth.</li><li>D-Day.&nbsp; No.&nbsp; Wait.&nbsp; I'd cry.&nbsp; No.&nbsp; I'd still go.</li></ol>Maybe I'll flesh the discussion of time travel out more thoroughly at a later time.<br />And so many more things have happened.&nbsp; We left our old crappy apartment for a much nicer one in a much worse part of Brooklyn.&nbsp; We visited Hawai'i.&nbsp; We welcomed the birth of our first nephew!&nbsp; All of these just absolutely brilliantly wonderful things have happened in the past 8 months... and the thing that made me want to blog again was this:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WngggaENbhI/T1AfNF3SzWI/AAAAAAAAAIs/y6haCpIQ6T0/s1600/buy+war+bonds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WngggaENbhI/T1AfNF3SzWI/AAAAAAAAAIs/y6haCpIQ6T0/s320/buy+war+bonds.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;<i>Fig. 3: If you're going to do propaganda, you might as well do it right.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I saw this poster today, and I realized that America doesn't urge its citizens to buy war bonds anymore.&nbsp; During the First and Second World Wars, posters, cartoons, radio announcers all urged every red-blooded American to buy war bonds.&nbsp; And there's something satisfying about giving over money to a good cause in return for a piece of paper that guarantees payback upon the victorious end of a war.&nbsp; Hell, if I were in a position to give $25 to Uncle Sam in the 1910s or 1940s, I'd be first in line to buy my war bond.&nbsp; But in our country's most recent conflicts: Korea, Vietnam, Gulf War I, Gulf War II, Afghanistan<i>, </i>&amp;c., the Congress didn't even ponder to ask its citizens for money.&nbsp; What does that tell us of these obnoxious conflicts?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I could seriously go on about other subjects that boggle my mind.&nbsp; Among them include the continuing flagrant abuse of food stamps programs that I see across the street from my apartment.&nbsp; Ah... I think it's time to get back in the saddle.&nbsp; It would be a vicious crime for me to deprive the masses of my ALWAYS 100% ACCURATE AND CORRECT commentaries and observations of THE ELEGANCE OF HUMANITY IN AMERICA - REDUX.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I think I will attempt to discuss the wedding and Hawaii in attempt to get back into form.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Until then, I am forever.</div><div style="text-align: left;">BARON THE REV. DR. MAYOR SIR WILLIAM, ESQ., BTT</div><div style="text-align: left;">Please comment if you know of a way that I can add "President" to my ever expanding collection of titles.</div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-48685928174410339262011-06-15T19:33:00.004-04:002011-06-15T19:48:45.839-04:00Good Morning Beautiful...Maria and I received a frankly gut-busting message on the phone this morning. It was delivered in a sleepy, throaty voice, obviously intended to be sexy - or something. If I were some sort of technological whiz-kid, I would post a recording of the message complete with a local news style 911 emergency call background. Alas, I am not that whiz-kid, so here's the message. Remember: throaty, sleepy, sexy and - ahem - from Brooklyn.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Good morning beautiful. How you doin’? This is ST. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, but – uh – you’re a hard woman to catch up with. Anyway, you should give me a call back. I’ll be in the house until about 1:30 if you wanna call back. If not, I understand. Have a great day. Bye."</span><br /><br />Naturally my first instinct was to trace the call and savagely torture the person on the otherend of the line for trying to pick up my betrothed in so shameful a way. But in the end, I just laughed and cracked open an ice cold Schaefer Beer before shamelessly posting this sorry attempt at a pickup.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sy1QPHKvUyE/TflDuSM9U8I/AAAAAAAAAGI/LhsJd6gsa1E/s1600/Schaefer.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sy1QPHKvUyE/TflDuSM9U8I/AAAAAAAAAGI/LhsJd6gsa1E/s400/Schaefer.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618596472560636866" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Fig. 1: It's the one beer to have when you're having more than one.</span><br /></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-19576024853474858052011-06-01T18:13:00.005-04:002011-06-07T13:16:14.691-04:00The Robin Danger Action School of Culinary Excellence!Many centuries ago (read: 11 months ago), I was approached by a shady stranger with a thick St. Petersburg accent as I sat on a bench by South Street Seaport. The stranger wore a rich brown fedora, dark sunglasses, gray tweed trousers and heavy trench coat. He slid up to me and muttered,<br />"I hear dare is g-r-r-reat veather in Moscow," after which he placed a nondescript leather attaché case at my feet.<br />"Um... I think you have the wrong --"<br />"You are not Screaming Eagle?"<br />"Well, <span style="font-style: italic;">yes<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span>I am, but this is not the appointed time or place for this to ha--"<br />"YOU VILL COME VIK ME."<br />And that is how Greg Mourino suckered me into working on his master's thesis project.<br />It is a fact already well known to my stalkers and readers that I used this SECRET PROJECT as a means of hiding a sneaky trip to Long Island wherein I asked my future wife's family what they thought about the two of us getting married. What does that mean? That this project happens to be the MOST IMPORTANT COMPUTER ANIMATED FILM IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND.<br />Instead of going into mountainous waves of detail, I will instead share it without further ado. Enjoy - The Robin Danger Action School of Culinary Excellence.<br /><br /><br /><center><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/JfbzjPprZFM" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="560"></iframe></center><br /><br />I will always maintain fond memories of repeatedly shouting "SHUT UP!" and "WRONG!" into a very expensive microphone in a converted bedroom with mattresses against the walls to contain the sound. I can only hope my violent shouting struck fear into the hearts of the obnoxious children upstairs in Greg's apartment.BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-19458061296486871842011-05-20T17:08:00.007-04:002011-05-24T18:42:43.088-04:00In This, Our Last Day on Earth...It has come to my attention from certain reputable sources (i.e. people wearing t-shirts distributing pamphlets on the subway) that the world will end tomorrow, May 21st, 2011. Or the Rapture will happen and the world will be destroyed by fire in October or something to that effect. Whatever the case, I am here to dispel fears and reassure the frightened masses that the world WILL NOT END at the said date and time. And no, don't expect me to go into a scientific breakdown of the diarrhea that issues from senile West Coast ministers who haven't enough brains to blow on hot soup. I'm going to give you REAL reasons why the world can't possibly end and that it will endure far longer than any millenarian cultist will tell you. I present:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">REASONS THE WORLD WILL NOT END ON MAY 21, 2011<br /></div><br />1. Maria and I have not yet married. They say you're supposed to present your strongest argument last, but to hell with that. Let us just say that if God decides to Rapture all his chosen people into heaven tomorrow after all the time and effort that Maria and I (but especially Maria) have put into this glorious event, he's got something worse than Satan's wrath to deal with - the wrath of Ms. Olsen. I am relatively sure that my mother would punch him in his perfect, omnipotent face if he did ANYTHING the mar the plans of our Blessed Event. I can already see him whining, droplets of precious blood staining his millennia-whitened beard, apologizing to the 5'1" behemoth that just bitch-slapped him. One minute with Ms. Olsen, and I'm certain that God would return the world to its former splendor and pretend that none of that nonsense ever happened.<br />Which reminds me, the vote! I had every intention of blowing off the dozens of voters who opted for the blue whale tie and choosing another tie. J. Press was having a sale this week, and so I popped into their store on Madison Avenue, where I was greeted by their best salesman, Mark Clark. I was about to buy a 25% off burgundy tie with white colored polka dots, but none was available. Whilst perusing the other ties, my eyes fell upon the whale tie. In the sales pitch of the century, Mark pressed the tie into my hands and said, "It was practically made for that suit." Long story short, you win voters. This time.<br /><br />2. They Might Be Giants have not yet released their latest adult-oriented album, <span style="font-style: italic;">Join Us</span>. Scientists have proven that God is a huge TMBG geek. No way would he call it all quits before Brooklyn's Ambassadors of Love, who have been installing and servicing melodies since 1982, got their chance to release another album. It's just - not - happening.<br /><br />3. I am not finished reading <span style="font-style: italic;">The Autobiography of Mark Twain</span>. And even if this will be the last day of Earth, let it be known that I'm GLAD the last book I shall have read was Mark Twain's autobiography. Have you ever wondered what it's like to be an old, bitter man, sitting in bed reading newspaper clippings and ranting to a stenographer about how biographies SHOULD be written and completely dodge the subject of your own personal life and matters entirely? Then this is your book. Of the over 700 cereal box-sized pages, only about 250 contain the autobiography proper - if you can call this a proper autobiography. The balance consists entirely of scholarly bullshit more suited to the kindling pile than to literature bearing the name Mark Twain. I can just picture how Twain would have felt about 500 pieces of paper wasted by doctors and post graduates trying to <span style="font-style: italic;">guess</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">surmise</span> what he wanted the people of 2010 to read. It's insufferable.<br />And as I said, Twain does everything in his power not to talk about himself. His topics range from the distasteful decorations of his living quarters, to the iniquity of Jay Gould, to explanatory notes on a biography written about him by his deceased daughter (which is brilliant), to overbearing landlords. And perhaps one of the funniest things is his insistence on bringing up the subject of a woman being escorted out of President Roosevelt's White House because the President hadn't time to meet with her.<br />Of course this anecdote only serves to prove his thesis that all news fades away and becomes unimportant; that big stories of the day just aren't as big as you get further from them. Still, those juicy little headlines are oddly entertaining to read 100 years after the events that caused them to be printed transpired. He apparently wanted to make a literary magazine consisting solely of seemingly inane newspaper clippings from decades ago. Notwithstanding, he keeps bringing up the subject of a woman being forcibly removed from the White House. Now naturally I was astonished by this whole anecdote, as the idea of a normal citizen waltzing into the national mansion is impossible to comprehend. No doubt they'd be shot by a sniper before they had a chance to wipe their feet nowadays. But Mr. Twain is BESIDE himself with anger at President Roosevelt for not dealing with this issue more delicately. Any modern reader would find this whole event asinine; the concept of someone entering the White House without a birth certificate and passport and a writ of consent signed in triplicate by Jesus Christ himself is baffling to the modern reader. But Mark Twain included it in his biography.<br />There is one matter of the autobiography that does pertain to tomorrow's (fictitious) events. Twain recalls the night in Hannibal, Missouri when the real person upon whom Injun Joe was based died. A massive thunderstorm struck the Mississippi River town that turned the streets into muddy rivers. Twain was certain that the thunderstorm was the Devil coming for Injun Joe's soul. It is perhaps coincidental that the weather here in Brooklyn has been rainy, and that thunderstorms haunt the forecast for the next 6 days as well.<br />SPOOKY.<br /><br />4. If the following clip did not produce a black hole that consumed the world and all of time and space with it, THEN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WILL DESTROY THE WORLD*.<br /><br /><center><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EUEATmGKEHo" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"></iframe></center><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 1: Daniel Patrick Moynihan v. William F. Buckley, Jr.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Wow. Just. Wow.<br />The late Senator Moynihan frequents this blog often - because he was the greatest senator of all time - but I think this marks Mr. Buckley's first appearance in this corner of the interpipes. What can be said of this video? Here are two persons who have mastered the English language on entirely different levels. Moynihan's command of English sees him picking esoteric, professorly words, intentionally fumbling whilst searching for words, over-elaborating vowels for the purpose of drawing attention to his word choice, and syncopating the syllables of important words. It's wonderful to watch. And I have always been jealous of his style of public speaking. There is something very commanding and patrician about his speaking style.<br />But then there's William F. Buckley, Jr., whose voice is like butter melting over warm blueberry muffins. Perhaps no one else on Earth has ever had such an accent; a mid-Atlantic verging on BBC received pronunciation, peppered with Southern twangs and toothy whistles on chosen S's. Listen to him say, "'Your immortal soul,' the monseigneur replied," on repeat, and tell me if you aren't immediately transported to the Twilight Zone. And how I ENVY someone who can get away with unapologetically pronouncing the highest office of the United States as "prez-dint," only to follow it with a pure New Orleans "Caw-tuh." Buckley's pronunciation of Jimmy Carter's name and title make the erstwhile Commander-in-Chief sound less like a cardigan-clad peanut farmer and more like THE MOST POWERFUL MAN ON PLANET EARTH.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pHGw3UpdCZc/Tdbza2cD9TI/AAAAAAAAAFo/QqJ2DgzQzms/s1600/cartergan"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 384px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pHGw3UpdCZc/Tdbza2cD9TI/AAAAAAAAAFo/QqJ2DgzQzms/s400/cartergan" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608938028551894322" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 2: This style is acceptable only for soft-spoken Pennsylvanians on public television - not men who can hit buttons that annihilate entire nations.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">So what does this have to do with Doomsday or the Rapture? Simple. The fact that two of the most fantastic public speakers in American history were able to sit next to one another in a television studio and exchange such exquisitely embellished English words without a space-time rift opening up and the voice of Stephen Hawking announcing the impending doom of Earth bears testament that this world will CAN WITHSTAND ANYTHING.<br />Ozone holes?<br />HA!<br />Global warming?<br />More like a tiny fever!<br />Bill Buckley and Pat Moynihan SPEAKING AT ONE ANOTHER.<br />NOT - A - PROBLEM.<br /><br />* - The death of the sun will likely destroy this world, but humanity will likely have colonized space at that point - hopefully.<br /><br />So ladies and gentlemen, we are quite safe. So long as Ms. Olsen, John Linnell, John Flansburg, Mark Twain's <span style="font-style: italic;">Autobiography</span>, and video recordings of a well-spoken Senator and a butter-voiced conservative pundit exist, GOD WILL NOT DESTROY HIS MOST FAVORED CREATION.<br /><br />...but have a drink on my account just in case.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></div></div></div></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-63037900748012009542011-04-18T19:43:00.005-04:002011-04-18T22:37:00.690-04:00Wherein You, THE READER, Decides What Tie I Will Wear at my Wedding...Saturday was what you could call an "eventful" day for me. Jon and I went searching for something for my groomsmen to wear. It was raining and we were walking down 5th Avenue looking in the windows of all the expensive shops, wondering where Brooks Brothers had hidden its store. We ambled past a store whose window displayed a panama hat similar to the one worn by Harry S Truman - which just so happens to be the hat I wanted to complete my wedding ensemble.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wqyLl3CGF0Y/TazNsyVShfI/AAAAAAAAAFI/ESRb1ud-cPM/s1600/truman%2Bpanama"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wqyLl3CGF0Y/TazNsyVShfI/AAAAAAAAAFI/ESRb1ud-cPM/s400/truman%2Bpanama" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597074606223689202" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 1: Harry Truman's ACTUAL panama hat. If someone could kindly steal this from his President Library, that would just be fantastic. Thanks.<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br />That store happened to be J. Press. I'd never heard of the store, but Jon being the Resident Expert that he is informed me that J. Press was the official outfitter of Yale University.<br />To put a somewhat long story short, I walked into J. Press for a panama hat and left with a very expensive tailored-to-fit <a href="http://billchas.blogspot.com/2010/10/seersucker-plan-redux.html">seersucker suit</a>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WQ8sTktw03o/TazOyzeB8dI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/AVfGDxMkVng/s1600/j%2Bpress%2Bseersucker"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WQ8sTktw03o/TazOyzeB8dI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/AVfGDxMkVng/s400/j%2Bpress%2Bseersucker" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597075809119629778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 2: Eat your heart out, Atticus Finch!</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I told you it was hot. Now, only one thing remains. I plan on wearing a white French-cuffed shirt with my suit, and have decided that a red-colored tie would be most appropriate to make me look like a walking, living, breathing American Flag - that happens to be getting married at the time. Here's the problem, a plain red tie is just - well - too plain for me. It needs a little something extra, and that's where I found myself in this little dilemma. You see, J. Press also sells these amazingly fun emblematic ties, and I have fallen in love with two in particular.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GdoTM5ZKn_c/TazOy1uf_jI/AAAAAAAAAFY/zUfj1sFmqNU/s1600/elephants%2Btie"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GdoTM5ZKn_c/TazOy1uf_jI/AAAAAAAAAFY/zUfj1sFmqNU/s400/elephants%2Btie" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597075809725578802" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 3: A multicolored elephant tie - something you'd see someone from a Wes Anderson movie wear.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-364nSGaJ3UA/TazOzFVo1kI/AAAAAAAAAFg/jpomfTj_lEc/s1600/whales%2Btie"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-364nSGaJ3UA/TazOzFVo1kI/AAAAAAAAAFg/jpomfTj_lEc/s400/whales%2Btie" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597075813916268098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 4: A blue whale tie. Also... something you'd most likely see Royal Tenenbaum or "The Businessman" from </span>The Darjeeling Limited<span style="font-style: italic;"> wearing</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">That's where you come in. I need your help, dear readers, in deciding which tie should complement this god among suits. You'll notice that I've added a poll on the right side of my blog where you may feel free to vote to your heart's content.<br />Also, feel free to send donations to offset the cost of all this Ivy League haberdashery that I've mired myself in. And also - please everyone - remind to tell Maria that she looks so much better than I do on July 2*.<br /><br />* - I will likely be slapped for this sentence.<br /></div></div></div></div></div></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-80873487581232355922011-04-14T18:43:00.009-04:002011-04-15T07:03:30.334-04:00In Which We Share Electronic Missives from the Episcopal Church...It has been way too long since I've posted. I believe I was supposed to tell you something about my top three worst fears. Does anyone really care to know? Fine... here they are:<br />3.) That Maria &amp; I Are Becoming Hipsters.<br />2.) CHINA TAKING OVER THE WORLD.<br />1.) Megafauna.<br />All right... all right. Pretty much everyone who knows me knows that I harbor something of a grudge against China (not really a grudge so much as it is a spirit of healthy competition). This is perhaps due entirely to the fact that China silently because the world's largest manufacturer economy, thereby surpassing the United States in what right-minded pundits assure us is the first sign of the End of the Pax Americana. What's the real deal? China is heavily vested in the economic prosperity of the United States. If we fat, bloated, Capitalist pigs don't buy all of their little trinkets and Billy the Big-Mouth Basses and cheap paper cocktail parasols, THEN CHINA WILL CRUMBLE.*<br />* - Note: It will not literally crumble.<br />I believe our good friend Gale put my feeling about China best when she drew this <a href="http://patbird.galesaur.com/20110210/super-bowl/">webcomi</a><a href="http://patbird.galesaur.com/20110210/super-bowl/">c</a>.<br />Honestly though... my only concern is putting on a better spectacle than China. AND HOW DO YOU COMPETE WITH THIS?!<br /><center><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/RUy9OgRRXnw" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" width="640"></iframe></center><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 1: MY GOD, IT'S FULL OF STARS.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span>This is quite honestly one of the most amazing displays I have ever seen in my life. If my fear is based in anything, it is jealousy. Pure, prideful jealousy. So, that sums up my "fear" of China. The hipster thing? I was going to talk about food co-ops, living in Brooklyn, and wearing tighter fitting clothing (due to my weight loss), but... I'm not nearly dirty enough, nor do I live in Williamsburg. So I think I'm safe.<br />...FOR NOW.<br />As for my very real and very paralyzing fear of megafauna. I will show you two pictures: Fig. 2 &amp; Fig. 3.<br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hKggyU3kfjs/Tad7mnKCYVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/CPeAtSIf0oQ/s1600/giant%2Bisopod"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 330px; height: 394px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hKggyU3kfjs/Tad7mnKCYVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/CPeAtSIf0oQ/s400/giant%2Bisopod" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595576965307457874" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 2: HOLY SHIT!<br /><br /></span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DGtgC970Un8/Tad7mj6PwTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/5Qn3tx_x12Y/s1600/giant%2Bmoose"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DGtgC970Un8/Tad7mj6PwTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/5Qn3tx_x12Y/s400/giant%2Bmoose" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595576964435919154" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 3: SWEET LUCIFER'S POCKET CHANGE!</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />If these two images don't strike bloody fear into your veins, then you are scarcely human. I rest my case.<br />...ugh, that moose photograph gives me nightmares.<br /><br />But more important than my silly (and not so silly fears), I think it highly appropriate to share the following email exchange between myself and Rev. Farrell, being the man who will preside over the blessed union between Maria and myself. Bear in mind, the good Reverend shot down our idea to play the beautiful exit music from the original Star Wars film, and so I perhaps took his control issues too far in asking about what may be thrown at Maria and me as we exit the church. I began:<br /><br />Hey Fr. Farrell,<br /><br />Granny launched a small investigation into the possibility of having a small punch &amp; cookies reception in the upper Parish Hall immediately following the ceremony. From what she said, we need to seek your approval on the matter. I know that preparations need to be made for the 5:00 service, but we hope it won't be too large an inconvenience.<br />Also, we're wondering what the policy is regarding items that can be thrown at us as we exit the church. We've found a type of confetti made from earth-friendly materials and 100% biodegradable. It disappears after the first rain or with a once-over with a hose.<br />http://www.save-on-crafts.com/confetti.html<br />And one more thing - as I suspected, my grandmother would really love to bring up the sacraments with Maria's grandmother. Maria needs to consult with her grandmother on the matter, but I have a feeling that we may change our minds on the matter.<br />I believe that's all - or at least enough - for now. Let us know. Thanks!<br /><br />-Will<br /><br />Barring that horrible double usage of "the matter" in the final paragraph, I thought it was a reasonable letter. He responded:<br /><br />Will,<br /><br />People in the upper parish hall munching on cookies will not get in the way of the blessed sacrament at 5:00. You must also clear it with *******, who does scheduling. I believe that AA comes in at 6:15 or so, and everything would have to be cleaned and moved out of the way by that time, if I am correct. ***** will know.<br /><br />Items that can be thrown at you as you exit the church? Cows are permissible as long as they are dairy cows and are thrown from the top of the tower. Knives are also acceptable if thrown by someone who is licensed by Circus Acts Licensing Agency. Whatever happened to birdseed? Is that what is dismissed as "slippery"? If you want that snow fluttering effect, let me suggest a January wedding. All right, all right. I quashed the Star Wars music, but desire less control of what goes on outside the church. Eco-friendly snowyflakey stuff is fine. I still might bring a cow, though.<br /><br />The matter of who brings up the offerings is entirely in your court. (They are not yet sacraments, you know, or would you completely obviate the necessity of a priest? Are you some kind of anti-clerical Evangelical? Do you deny the meaning of the sacrifice at the altar? I don't think the Evangelical Pentecostal Gospel Church of Jesus in Bohemia is booked for a wedding on July 2. You might try there. God is watching you, Will Olsen-Hoek!)<br /><br />Farrell+<br /><br />Needless to say I loved this email. I replied:<br /><br />Sir,<br /><br />Rest assured that your previous electronic missive will be transcribed by a highly paid calligrapher, writ in gold upon blue whale leather parchment, set in a frame fashioned of reclaimed teak from the Titanic, and hung in the portrait gallery that Maria and I have secreted away in the dark, cavernous recesses of our tiny Brooklyn apartment.<br />I must now insist that you bring a cow, if only to re-enact the likely apocryphal story wherein soon-to-be-President William McKinley forced a cow to the roof of Bentley Hall at Allegheny College because he'd heard that cows were unable to walk downstairs, and wished to see what shades of scarlet the Dean's face would turn upon discovery of the bovine nuisance.<br />As for birdseed, I carefully read the instructions on granny's wheelie walker and discovered that the mechanism is distinctly sensitive and prone to explosion in the presence of birdseed. The insurance burden St. Ann's may incur in such case frankly terrifies me.<br />Upon calling the Evangelical Pentecostal Gospel Church of Jesus, I discovered that they don't take kindly to apostates such as myself who worship under the sinful diocese that makes bishops of - GASP - homosexuals and - EVEN WORSE - women. I'm not entirely sure about the nature of the rest of our conversation as the Pastor had for several minutes delivered me a long, apparently angry diatribe entirely in tongues. He hung up on me after he ran out of breath. Long story short, it's a no-go with them.<br />So I suppose we'll settle with St. Ann's - and throw our sinful organic confetti, shove cows up the bell tower, convince our friends to group juggle flaming chainsaws outside, and gluttonously gorge ourselves on punch and cookies in the Parish Hall! After all, wasn't it Mother Teresa who once said, "If this church is a-rocking, don't come a-knocking"?<br /><br />-Sir William, 571st Baron of Sealand<br /><br />Post Scriptum: Thank you for ******'s email. I'll let her know about our intentions in the Parish Hall and that it's cool with you.<br /><br />It's emails like this that make me proud to be an Episcopalian.<br /><br /><center><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ifgHHhw_6g8" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"></iframe><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 4: If anything may be said of the world, Monty Python has said it better.</span><br /></div></center></div></div></div></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-55183338247572498052011-02-15T19:36:00.008-05:002011-02-21T21:43:46.562-05:00We Have Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself.. and These Several Other Things.For a large part of my life, I was deathly afraid of roller coasters... in fact, I was deathly afraid of most amusement park rides. Indeed, one of my favorite things is the tears that well in my grandmother's eyes as she nearly dies laughing while recalling that one day at Disney World that I fell on the floor crying, begging her not to bring me into the Haunted Mansion. In fact, it wasn't until college that I actually developed a taste for roller coasters - though generally the more tame of the bunch. I in fact love the Coney Island Cyclone in all its bone rattling, arthritis-inducing glory that is so indicative of the wild ride the Nation was experiencing during its 1927 construction. Still, when I ventured to New Jersey for Fright Fest at Six Flags, I looked up in disgust and horror at an abominable steel cathedral of death: Kingda Ka.<br /><br /><center><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HN8nv4tVFuA" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"></iframe></center><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 1: THIS IS NOT ENTERTAINMENT<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">I still consider this fear conquered to a certain degree, as I have ridden Nitro in near total darkness and El Toro, a wooden coaster that rides like its steel cousins.<br />So what do I still fear? Watching Jeopardy! tonight, I was reminded of a cold, terrible, dormant fear that grips the depths of my mind. What else could I do but compile them into a list that my enemies may exploit to my detriment.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">THE FIVE THINGS I FEAR BESIDES FEAR ITSELF<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;">No. 5.) Scientology.<br />It burns, I know. If you have a lazy Sunday that needs whittling away, might I suggest <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2011/02/14/110214fa_fact_wright">reading this eye-opening piece about Scientology</a>. It pays more respect to the details of the religion than I do in this short, hilarious, self-serving blog of mine - and makes many of my observations seem childlike and ignorant. Needless to say, that article is an example of journalism, and this is an attempt at comedy.<br />Yes, I love the Constitution of the United States - and yes I realize that the very first amendment to it guarantees religious freedom to anyone within the borders of this great nation... in so many words. I don't begrudge people their religion, except to those apostates who defect from the Episcopal Church because of our tendency to elect female and openly homosexual bishops. I do, however, find the "Church" of Scientology to be a horse of a different color, something that needs be scrutinized in league with the likes of snake oil salesman and Vince the Sham-Wow guy. Okay, I get it, Xenu is an evil overlord who imprisoned the souls in paleolithic humans or something... and the only way we can clear ourselves is to give L. Ron Hubbard our fortunes to become Level 8 Thetans.<br /><div style="background-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); width: 368px;"><div style="padding: 4px;"><embed src="http://media.mtvnservices.com/mgid:cms:item:southparkstudios.com:104274" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" base="." flashvars="" height="293" width="360"></embed><p style="text-align: left; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); padding: 4px; margin-top: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><b><a href="http://www.southparkstudios.com/full-episodes/s09e12-trapped-in-the-closet">Trapped in the Closet</a></b><br />Tags: <a style="display: block; position: relative; top: -1.33em; float: right; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 0); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.southparkstudios.com/">SOUTH<br />PARK</a><a href="http://www.southparkstudios.com/guide/episodes/s09e12-trapped-in-the-closet">more...</a></p></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 2: An Inconvenient Truth</span><br /></div>See, doesn't that sound like something from a video game? I have always been wary about this religion because of its origins in the mind of a really bad science fiction pulp writer. Then someone I knew personally - someone I liked and respected, became a Scientologist.<br />One bizarre evening, he came back from California after several months auditing with the Church, or whatever it is they do. By this time, I had experimented with Red Bull for the first time with disastrous results - namely that I went on an all-night bike ride the previous night and had suffered more than 48 hours of jittery wakefulness. Our Scientologist friend had invited us to Starbucks. Accompanying him was his fiancée - a cold, enigmatic Asian woman who spoke almost no English. What I remember of the event was that my friend showed us a series of cards about depression, confusion and "clearing" yourself. It shook me. Here was a friend of mine behaving like one of those people who offered "stress tests" in the Times Square subway station.<br />Scientology shares way too many things in common with the medieval concept of buying indulgences, which goes something like this:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It is the Middle Ages. Lord Chestermoreton wishes to do ungodly things and get away with it. He brings with him an enormous chest full of precious gold, diamonds and rubies stolen from the Holy Land. He approaches Pope Charlie XII who is seated upon the Throne of St. Peter.<br /><br /></span>Lord Chestermoreton: Your Holiness, I wish to divorce my wife. Her cooking is an atrocity against humanity. There is little difference between her stew and the contents of my chamberpot after choking down the said stew.<br /><br />Pope Charlie XII: I see, my son. Well, you know full well the church's view on divorce. Marriage is, after all, a holy sacrament.<br /><br />Lord Chestermoreton: What if I were to offer you this ring? It was stolen from the finger that blasted Mohamadan, Suleiman the Impeccably Dressed, after my forces ransacked Jerusalem.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Lord Chestermoreton offers the Holy Father an immense golden ring with an emerald the size of a peach pit. Pope Charlie XII leans over, examines the magnificent jewel. He strokes his chin, and says...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span></span>Pope Charlie XII: For this my son, you can put that lousy cook to death with my blessings.<br /><br />Lord Chestermoreton: Splendid! Now that we've settled that, I'd like to marry my prize horse, Broomhilda.<br /><br />Pope Charlie XII: Now just a moment my son! The Bible <span style="font-style: italic;">clearly</span> states in Leviticus that --<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Lord Chestermoreton's kicks open his chest of precious things. It sparkles and radiates with the priceless contents within. Pope Charlie XII leans over, examines the contents of the chest and whistles.<br /><br /></span>Pope Charlie XII: So... when's the wedding?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fin.</span><br /><br />The only way you can advance to higher levels in the Church of Scientology is to pay - OUT THE NOSE. Mr. Hubbard recognized that he could profit from his new religion, and thus actively sought out wealthy celebrities and offered them higher status in the church the more money they gave. Our friend gave an awful lot of money to the Church in his own time there.<br />It scares me that intelligent people can fall for something like this. And what did our friend get out of Scientology? Well, to give you an idea, the last time I saw him was at a bar. He took out his keys out of his pocket to retrieve his wallet. I noticed a plain golden ring holding all his keys together. "Is that what I think it is," I asked him. Sure enough, it was his wedding band. "Yeah... at least it's good for something at this point," he responded.<br />Sham marriages. Practical slavery. Buying indulgences. Xenu capturing human souls. A failed sci-fi writer. This is some scary shit, people.<br /><br />No. 4.) The Zombie Apocalypse.<br />Good grief. I hear about this stuff all the time. Apparently everyone in the sci-fi community is convinced that we will all perish when some mutated virus from space or from some secret defunct Soviet-era laboratory or from monkeys. And not only will we perish, we will then walk the earth with glazed over eyes and puckered, rotting flesh with an insatiable hunger for brains. Even Robert Frost hypothesized the world would end with the Walking Dead when he wrote his famous short poem, Fire and Zombies.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fire and Zombies<br />by Robert Frost<br /><br />Some say the world will end in fire,<br />Some say in zombies.<br />From what I've tasted of desire<br />I hold with those who favor fire.<br />But if it had to perish twice,<br />I think I know enough of Hate<br />To say that for destruction, zombies<br />Are also great and would consume we.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Mr. Frost gave up at the end with so trite and contrived a rhyme. But really, what useful word rhymes with zombies. NONE.<br /></div></div>In short: THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE WILL NOT HAPPEN.<br />But I am relatively sure that The Zombie Apocalypse is the new euphemism for MASS GLOBAL PANDEMICS THAT WILL DETROY US ALL.<br />Now that's really something to be frightened of. Oh, there's the occasional scare that we get. First we were all going to die from SARS. Then anthrax. Then swine flu. Seriously though, most of these frightful, terrifying diseases are either a.) easily treated or b.) easily preventable. Indeed, these Angels of Death could be fended off with hand sanitizer. THAT IS NOT SCARY. Not even the flu epidemic of the early 1900s is truly, bone-chillingly terrifying, considering that some attribute the mass deaths from the said outbreak to overdoses of the new miracle drug, aspirin.<br />No, the real rider upon a Pale Horse are culprits like the Ebola virus, which some scientists speculate actually has EXTRATERRESTRIAL ORIGINS.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NTrxZksYsdU/TWMIp0MGlWI/AAAAAAAAAEU/ycaTyTH4MVE/s1600/Ebola.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 362px; height: 285px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NTrxZksYsdU/TWMIp0MGlWI/AAAAAAAAAEU/ycaTyTH4MVE/s400/Ebola.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576310278091871586" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 3: I knew he was in with a bad crowd, but it was worse than I imagined. ALIENS!<br /><br /></span></div>The very thought of a virus that attacks and kills in a single day and hops onto the next nearest available host, leaving in its path a wake of death and destruction gives me the willies! Those unfortunate victims need not rise from their deaths to begin feasting upon the living. NO WAY. It's scary enough as it is.<br />Plus, everybody knows that if the zombie apocalypse were to really happen, you need only find a baseball bat and several humorous friends. BOOM - suddenly you're a survivor!<br /><br />Recap: So, we've covered that I fear Scientology and The Zombie Apocalypse. I will save my top 3 fears for next time.<br /></div></div></div></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-52607304188171224192011-01-28T15:06:00.008-05:002011-02-15T12:33:30.854-05:00An Epistle Wrought by a Victim of the Snowpocalypse... FROM BEYOND THE GRAVEGreetings internet colleagues. For those of you not living in the Northeastern United States (being the only part of the said country that really matters), you may or may not be aware of the fact that every soul in the said geographical area has been wiped clean. Alas, it's true. In New York impatient people perished waiting an extra 10 minutes for a bus to arrive. In Boston thousands met their end from the minor inconvenience of having to hop over a slushy puddle. In Philadelphia literally thousands met their doom when they had to send their hideous UGG boots to the dry cleaner to remove rock salt stains. In short, I'm sorry to say, but we are all dead. I met my tragic end when I received an annoying telephone call at 6:15 AM telling me that New York City public schools would be closed that day. The tragedy of having lost $154.97 in daily wages was too much for my heart to bear, and thus, in the darkened, overheated* gloom of my Brooklyn apartment, I withered to dust. Using the latest high-speed necrofiberoptic technology, I was able to download my consciousness into the nearest electronic device with a programmable memory (nothing fancy, mind you - by an unlucky coincidence a coffee maker was the closest object at my time of death) and am thus able to deliver this missive to you, Dear Readers. Let's talk about the economy.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Item 1: Return to the Gold Standard</span><br />Now, in my life, I was a titled Baron of the micronation of Sealand - a decrepit World War II remnant currently decaying in the English Channel. Sealand's economy as well as the rusting support beam keeping it from the watery abyss below are, not to put too fine a point on it, rather fragile. In these dark time the middle and lower classes find themselves quickly slipping back into standards of living roughly equal to that of medieval Scottish peasantry. Sealand took a cue from L. Frank Baum's economic treatise<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. </span><br />I'll explain. In this timeless classic, an uppity little girl, Dorothy Gale, from gloomy Kansas senselessly murders an innocent sorceress by dropping a house on her. After looting the body of a priceless pair of silver slippers, the deceased's sister, a fellow sorceress hailing from the West relentlessly pursues the murderous thief, who quickly allies herself with such questionable company as a straw man, a tin woodsman and a lion. Dorothy evades the sorceress's machinations by following a road built entirely of yellow bricks until she meets the Wizard, who is nothing but a failed politician (and a worse hot air balloonist). Eventually Dorothy and her rag tag crew murder the western sorceress, steal her broomstick, and are given gifts and a way home by the Wizard and a rival sorceress. All this is actually a cleverly conceived allegory for sticking to the gold standard. See, Dorothy was able to complete her barbarous, blood-drenched quest by using "silver" slippers and following a yellow - or GOLD - brick road and by surrounding herself with brainless, cowardly, heartless brutes. That's what we have governments for!<br />Why did I tell you all this? You see, Sealand, as I said, took a cue from L. Frank Baum's beloved "children's" classic, and made its currency nothing but solid gold and silver. I, a titled Baron, suddenly realized that I had no gold and little silver to back my aristocratic ways. However am I to afford my rusting, cold, salty, wet estate in Sealand? Naturally I needed to buy some gold. I went right to a source that Baum would have applauded: The United States Mint.<br />A few weeks ago I purchased a 1/10 ounce Gold Eagle coin.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TUMqvGjXxNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/etTgP9nm-74/s1600/gold%2Beagle.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 206px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TUMqvGjXxNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/etTgP9nm-74/s400/gold%2Beagle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567340553061254354" border="0" /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 1: Only 4 bald eagles and 1 depiction of Lady Liberty? What kind of majesty is that?!</span><br /><br /></div>Alas, I should have known that the Mint, with its infamous TIME AGENTS, have thwarted me by creating a TIME PARADOX DIFFERENTIATOR DEVICE. This abominably conceived machine causes quite the temporal anomaly - in that all important dates are made 2 weeks away from the current date. Thus, at the time of purchase, the site said my purchase was back ordered until January 31 of 2011, yet each day, the ship day was a DAY LATER, to the point where I am now told that it will not ship until February 12th of the same year. Oh, the very thought of those TIME AGENTS gives me a headache. How dare they get between me and a keepsake to mark the year of Maria's &amp; my wedding!<br />Now, if only the United States would follow in the footsteps of the famed economic philosopher L. Frank Baum and the entirely farcical Principality of Sealand, maybe we could dig ourselves out of this mess.<br /><br />Item 2: How to Feed Yourself in a Harsh Economic Climate<br />My last meal before perishing in the Snowpocalypse of 2011 happened to be at the famed Delmonico's steakhouse on Beaver Street in New York's Financial District. <a href="http://billchas.blogspot.com/2009/10/in-which-we-dine-in-style-of-diamond.html">I have previously written about the curious history of Delmonico's</a>. It was a fine meal of Lobster Newberg, slow braised beef, seared sea scallops, filet mignon and reasonably priced Chilean wine.<br />I wasn't always able to enjoy such fine feasts. In my youth, my family had very little money to throw around. My mother, ever the spendthrift, invented one of the finest cheap meals ever conceived; a dish that my sister and I retroactively entitled Ghetto Meal. I here share the recipe:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ghetto Meal</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ingredients</span>:<br /><ul><li>1 package Velveeta Shells &amp; Cheese</li><li>1 package frozen peas (the cheap kind, mind you - nothing a self-loving locavore would even consider edible)</li><li>1 package Hillshire Farms Polska Kielbasa</li></ul><span style="font-style: italic;">Directions:</span><br /><ol><li>Slice the kielbasa on a diagonal and brown in a large skillet.</li><li>Prepare shells &amp; cheese as directed on the box. Make sure you squeeze every last drop of that luscious "cheese" product out of the space-age wrapper. Add to the browned kielbasa</li><li>When that mixture is nice and warm, add frozen peas and heat through to the desired texture.</li><li>Get yourself a paper plate and enjoy!</li></ol>If I am feeling particularly adventurous, I may just chronicle the making of an haute-cuisine version of this recipe for my next entry.<br />Now, many of my readers would be put off by so low a recipe, but as you can imagine, for my sister and myself, this is the paragon of comfort food. When we bring up this recipe to our mother, she thinks we're making fun of her, but in all honesty, we applaud her for concocting a meal that could feed four hungry people and contain an ingredient from nearly every food group. I also reckon that with 1988 dollars, this meal would come to little over $1 per person, though this is purely conjecture.<br />The point is, you have to make do with what you have. In the Great Depression and World War II, people learned to grow their own vegetables and settled with eating much cheaper offal instead of Perdue "All-Natural" corn-fed, factory separated skinless boneless chicken breasts. Just ask my grandmother who relishes a nice plate of liver and bacon. To be fair, there is a bit of a pricing problem when a McDonald's Big Mac is $3.75 and a single red bell pepper is around $4 (yes, I paid that much for a bell pepper, and consider it one of the direst errata of my entire life -- along with the time a Japanese store clerk charged me $1.98 for an onion, forcing me to pay with my much-loved $2 bill). Still, there are cheap ways of feeding your entire family out there. That said, I got sort of disgusted when I was at the grocery store last week. A woman in front of me placed on the cashier's conveyor belt a six pack of juice boxes (an expensive variety depicting Sesame Street characters) and a deli counter sandwich with a self-adhesive price tag declaring that it cost $6.25. To my horror, the woman opted to pay with her <a href="http://www.fns.usda.gov/wic/">WIC </a>card. I am perhaps no expert in the area of food stamps and the like, but I am relatively certain that you cannot purchase any prepared foods with federal tax dollars. Every bodega and grocery store has a sign declaring that. Still, the cashier said, "It's okay, my manager says it's all right," and rang up the overpriced juice box and $6.25 sandwich. This is by no means the first time this has happened, as I've seen plenty of people pay for egg sandwiches with EBT and WIC cards. SIX DOLLARS AND TWENTY FIVE CENTS. Let's make better economic sense, shall we? I call this section:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">How Not to Pay $6.25 in Taxpayer Dollars on a Sandwich<br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><ol><li>Buy a loaf of bread for $1.99. I've seen it available at that price. The average loaf contains 20 slices of bread. For a single sandwich, you need 2 slices, bringing the total price of the bread used to 20¢.<br /></li><li>Buy a tomato for less than $1. I sliced a tomato and got around 8 slices. Let's say you want 2 slices of tomato on that sandwich. I liberally estimate this to cost between 15¢ and 20¢ - for the sake of this experiment, let's make it 25¢.<br /></li><li>Let's say you splurge on the lettuce. I can't find the price of a head of lettuce (it's $1 in the summer time) in the KeyFood circular, but they do offer expensive, pre-packaged salad blends (containing lettuce) on sale for $2.50. I once again liberally estimate that it will require 10% of this package for the sandwich, meaning the useless, tasteless green stuff on your sandwich will cost 25¢.</li><li>What luck! Fancy Boar's Head Honey Maple Turkey and American Cheese (white or yellow) are on sale this week. $7.99 for half a pound of each. The recommended serving sizes of turkey and cheese are 2 oz. and 1 oz., respectively. That amounts to 50¢ of turkey and 25¢ of cheese -- and this is the premium brand, too!</li><li>Hellmann's Mayonnaise is $3.99 for a 30 oz. jar. A serving size is 1 tablespoon, or roughly 1/60th of that jar. All that delicious pure fat that really brings the sandwich together will put you back $0.0665. For the sake of argument, we'll say it costs 7¢.</li></ol>Conclusion: Make yourself a sandwich. TA-DA! Lunch cost you (and by YOU, I mean the hardworking TAXPAYERS) $1.52.<br /><br />$6.25<br /><u>- $1.52</u></div></div>$4.73<br /><br />By a miracle of spendthriftery, I have saved us all tons of money that we can use to reform health care or visit Mars! You're welcome, America!<br />I plan on seizing control of the Rent is 2 Damn High Party (yes, that number two became official) and using the Sandwiches Are Too Damn Expensive For Taxpayer Dollars platform to launch my political career. First stop, Daniel Patrick Moynihan's old seat followed by the Oval Office.<br /><br />In summary, dear friends, we don't need a State of the Union address to tell us the economic shape of things. The United States Empire is in no danger of collapse - even though its entire Northeast and all its occupants, myself included, were destroyed by snow. I'll borrow from our British cousins and leave you with the following:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TUM9c1qDVsI/AAAAAAAAAEI/wxSQyc9kPjk/s1600/keep%2Bcalm%2Bcarry%2Bon"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 281px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TUM9c1qDVsI/AAAAAAAAAEI/wxSQyc9kPjk/s400/keep%2Bcalm%2Bcarry%2Bon" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567361130009155266" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 2: Can we replace that crown with an eagle clutching an American flag or something?</span><br /></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-57954110602741418832011-01-05T10:34:00.012-05:002011-01-05T19:31:25.716-05:00Most Honorable Company, Ltd.Did you know that is it currently January of 2011 and that I haven't written a single thing in this weblog since October of last year? Alex-sensei, blood-drenched samurai Lord of Hitoyoshi Castle knows and he was none too happy with me upon our glad reunion on this New Year's Eve. I know that it's practically a federal crime at this point to deprive the populous with my charming wit and masterful command of the English language; and so before a government SWAT team breaks down my door, I will relate to you, my dearly deprived readers, several developments in my life. Please note, that I am being paid for writing this blog entry. God bless the prep period!<br /><p align="left">Item 1.) BLOODY BLOODY ANDREW JACKSON.</p><p align="left">If you have not seen 2010's greatest Broadway musical, then you really ought to be ashamed of yourself. It closed on January 2nd because of lazy people like you who don't realize that a musical about the life and times of our 7th President is just a goddamned brilliant idea. Hell, it's an entertaining thought just sitting here in a quiet classroom. On a whim, I decided to check the reduced price Broadway tickets folder in the main office of the school where I had been filling in for a maternity leave. Sure enough, there stamped in red on a thin strip of paper was Andrew Jackson's Levis-clad butt, a stars &amp; stripes hanky stuffed in a rear pocket, and a holstered Colt revolver hanging beside. Tagline: History just got all sexypants.</p><p align="left">The theater was completely redecorated; taxidermied bear, a hog-tied horse hanging from the ceiling, broken portraits of long-dead Federalists &amp; Antifederalists, abused chandeliers... essentially some bastard child of a log cabin and the Oval Office - a fitting arena for a musical about Andrew Jackson. On our way to the theater, I specifically told Maria that I would be beside myself if there wasn't a number in the production called "Populism: F**K YEAH!" The lights dimmed, Jackson showered us with an innuendo-laden introduction, and the company went on to sing "Populism Yea Yea." I was pleased.</p><p align="left">I appreciated their treatment of Andrew "The American Hitler / Hero" Jackson. As a historian myself, I am torn between the legendary story of the first log cabin president, an unpretentious man of the people going on to govern the people, and the brutal and seemingly uncaring executor of the Indian Removal Act that constituted nothing short of genocide of an entire native population. That's America, folks - for better or for worse.</p><p align="left">Item 2: MOST HONORABLE COMPANY, LTD.</p><p align="left">Every year around the holiday season, Union Square goes from its normal obnoxious, hippie-strewn, hobo-hangout (populated with such choice characters who refer to themselves as "Air" and describe their life philosophy in such wishy-washy, detestable ways as "undecided") to an even more obnoxious bastion of consumerism and overpriced hipster goods - The Christmas Bazaar. Helen, Varun, Maria and I visited the said Christmas Gay (our own rebranding) so that Varun could buy Helen the pillow she'd had her eye on. I found a handmade watch for $300 that was made of hand-hammered copper, but couldn't convince myself that the movement attached to the pretty hand-work was worth it. Naturally the four of us got to thinking about our absolute favorite topic: the differences between Japan and the United States.</p><p align="left">We eventually came up with an amazingly brilliant idea to take Japan by storm. Taking a page from the boom in the 1980s of Japanese businessmen, we have decided to form MOST HONORABLE COMPANY, LTD..</p><p align="left">At MOST HONORABLE COMPANY, LTD., our motto is "PUT FOOD ON TABLE." We take this to mean, SUCCEED AT ANY COST, EVEN IF THAT COST IS THE ENTIRE NATION OF BELGIUM. Now, all Japanese companies must adopt an adorably inappropriate mascot that has nothing to do with what the company does at all. I remind readers that baseball teams in Japan are not named after the cities where the clubs play, but rather after enormoous companies. Hence the team name <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hokkaido_Nippon-Ham_Fighters">Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters</a>. Our mascot is none other than everybody's favorite GOOD EVENING CAT.<br /></p><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TSUMvy8q4tI/AAAAAAAAADw/FFag42tsulU/s1600/goodeveningcat.gif"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 357px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TSUMvy8q4tI/AAAAAAAAADw/FFag42tsulU/s400/goodeveningcat.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558863330328371922" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="center"><em>Fig. 1: Good Evening Cat (designed by M.N. French)</em> </p><p align="left">Having a mascot is all well and good... but even a tophat and a monocle do not a business make. What is a company without its products, and I am here to introduce some of the products and services that MOST HONORABLE COMPANY, LTD. will offer.<br />1.) The Purchase and Re-Branding of Giga-Pudding. I have seen this commercial twice, and that is two times too many.</p><p align="left"><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9sEI1AUFJKw?fs=1&amp;hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9sEI1AUFJKw?fs=1&amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />Giga-Pudding will become a pharmaceuticals company - the kind that has important ties to various shady government lobbies throughout Washington. The purpose? We want nothing more than to make commercials showing people enjoying themselves on the beach, living life to its fullest, and playing soft, inoffensive music in the background - WHILE WE WARN YOU THAT THIS PRODUCT WILL CAUSE: fever, rash, upset stomach, shock, forgetfulness, irregular heartbeat, nightsweats, swelling of the tongue, inability to produce tears, severe cardiac events, Demonic Possession, violent erotic nightmares, instantaneous death, hallucinations, and an unexplained fear of the color blue.</p><p align="left">2.) Pop Chan. Soft drinks are where the real money is made. It took a long and arduous conference meeting (that is, 2-3 minutes on a crowded subway) for our panelists to dream up the name of and invent flavoring for POP CHAN: EXCITING NEW NUMBER ONE GOOD SWEET DRINK! Pop Chan comes in the following flavors:<br /></p><ul><li><div align="left">cola</div></li><li><div align="left">strawberry</div></li><li><div align="left">Giga-Pudding</div></li><li><div align="left">seaweed shrimp kelp microplankton</div></li><li><div align="left">melon</div></li></ul><p align="left">Yummy! But the most exciting part about Pop Chan is its viral commercials.</p><p align="center"><strong>Pop Chan Commercial : Japanese Businessman</strong></p><p align="center">A shady, empty side-street at night. Flickering neon advertisements are reflected on the fresh rain upon the cold cobbled road. A man in thick glasses and a cheap double-breasted suit approaches a vending machine. Only a dog barking and the electric hum of the machine break the silence of the evening. He peruses the choices, and opts to purchase a pair of girls' panties, becaue urban legend has it that you can purchase things like than in vending machines in Japan. He puts the money into the machine and pushes the buttons for his selection. A can of POP CHAN falls from the machine instead.</p><p align="center">Businessman:</p><p align="center">POP CHAN?!?!</p><p align="center">The businessman is beside himself with anger. He composes himself and notices a tab on the can that reads "Pull Here" (however that is written in Japanese). He pulls the label to reveal a pair of girls' panties hidden beneath.</p><p align="center">Businessman:</p><div style="text-align: center;">POP CHAN!!!!!!<br /></div><p align="center">Stars, rainbows, and flowers explode from the bottom lefthand side of the screen. One of MOST HONORABLE COMPANY, LTD's Presidents (William) pops in. He winks, displays a Churchillian V for Victory.</p><p align="center">William:</p><p align="center">It's-a numbaa one goooooood!</p><p align="center">The POP CHAN logo appears on screen, wreathed in a halo of golden light. For a brief nano-second, the image of GOOD EVENING CAT blinks on screen to the sound of television static.</p><br /><p align="center">THE END.</p><br /><p align="left">If that doesn't outsell Coca-Cola in a matter of a single fiscal year, then the world is all but lost.</p><p>Item 3: Alcoholic Beverages. One of my dreams is to create my own brand of bourbon using only the finest ingredients from God's Chosen State (New York). Honestly, how great would a bourbon distilled from Long Island sweet corn and pure, clean Catskills water taste? Mighty fine, I'd bet. MOST HONORABLE COMPANY, LTD realizes the great value put upon so-called "premium" spirits nowadays. It seems that the larger and more streamlined a product becomes, the more expensive it grows. This is especially so when a hip-hop artist decides to mention a crappy brand of booze in one of his or her songs. And now such standbys as Hennessy and Courvoisier cognacs are nothing but artificially-colored ethanol. Here are some of our questionably named products:</p><ul><li>Fun Drink Rum - you know, for those damned mojitos that 20-something females from Long Island and New Jersey think are delicious because it makes them seem exotic and tropical. Please notice that Fun Drink Rum shares its initials with one of Japan's favorite American presidents.</li><li>For Pete's Sake - GET IT?! Sake - like the fermented rice wine and sake as in, you know... for the <em>sake </em>of all humanity. It... it's a homograph! Ugh... never mind.</li><li>Little Boy Vodka - a flavor <em>explosion</em> in your... oh my god, I went too far. I apologize.</li></ul><p>I'm pretty sure we had other ideas for MOST HONORABLE COMPANY, LTD. but they currently elude my memory. Of course we plan on forming our own shady holdings company, namely LEGITIMATE BUSINESS HOLDINGS, INC. which will compete with MOST HONORABLE COMPANY, LTD. in every respect until we artificially inflate our prices to the most insane levels imaginable before sinking LEGITIMATE BUSINESS HOLDINGS, INC. and reaping the profits until INTERPOL issues warrants for our arrest and we are left to liquidating our asset into pure gold bullion and retiring to our own sovereign island nation of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Principality_of_Sealand">Sealand</a> (where I am currently a titled Baron). It's good to have dreams and goals, kids.</p><p>I have made a New Year's resolution to post more than once per month. We'll see how long that lasts.</p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>W. Charles Olsen-Hoek</p><p>Co-President and Co-Founder MOST HONORABLE COMPANY, LTD.</p>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-87883330095070136752010-10-17T15:45:00.008-04:002010-10-18T16:41:13.780-04:00The Seersucker Plan - REDUXIt's no secret that for nearly my whole life I have had a weight problem. Right out of my mom's womb, I was pretty much doomed what with having been born to perhaps the greatest home cook ever documented. Seriously, there is nothing like Ms. Olsen's Famously Reheatable All-Week Lasagna. Since a young age, I've been instilled with an almost religious adoration of food. Indeed, some of my fondest memories involve restaurants - K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen in New Orleans owned by this man, for example:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TLtT7pvudWI/AAAAAAAAADE/M3P5oD_tSlc/s1600/prudhomme.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TLtT7pvudWI/AAAAAAAAADE/M3P5oD_tSlc/s400/prudhomme.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529105251810833762" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 1: Paul Prudhomme - who has since traded the depicted cane for a Rascal scooter.<br /></span></div><br />For the record, Paul Prudhomme's recipe for shrimp étoufée calls for an entire pound of butter. It's culinary heroes like him that have doomed me to carrying the equivalent weight of an extra Justin Bieber about my person. Not that it doesn't have it's benefits; I'm notoriously difficult to sink with my surplus buoyancy.<br />Still... I've yo-yo'ed weight in recent years. When I took to bicycling nearly everywhere I needed to go, I lost over 50 pounds. When I quit drinking soda in college, I magically shed 20 pounds. When I injured my knee and was unable to exercise without excruciating pain, I gained somewhere around 20 pounds. And when the holidays roll around? Well, let's just say that I <span style="font-weight: bold;">LOVE </span>eggnog.<br />It's been a difficult struggle with my weight, but I recently decided to take action to once and for all claim Victory in the Battle of the Bulge - and (HISTORY JOKE WARNING) without the aid of Gen. George S. Patton.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://teresajusino.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/patton.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 332px; height: 420px;" src="http://teresajusino.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/patton.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 2: Not actually George S. Patton - BUT WAY BETTER BECAUSE IT'S GEORGE C. SCOTT!<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>A couple years back, my dear friend Jon offered me something exceptionally precious - his father's Brook's Brothers seersucker suit.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TLteGAocciI/AAAAAAAAADM/_uTlPwO59KM/s1600/moynihan.seersucker.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TLteGAocciI/AAAAAAAAADM/_uTlPwO59KM/s400/moynihan.seersucker.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529116424869278242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 3: Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan sporting a Brooks Brothers seersucker suit, being a testament to the overwhelming awesomeness of the said garment.<br /><br /></span></div>His father George veered towards the portly side, and so Jon believed the suit should fit me. As it turned out, it was just a bit too snug on me. And so I swore myself that I would eventually fit into this suit in an elaborate plan called THE SEERSUCKER PLAN. This was essentially a modified version of the plan I concocted in college called THE DON'T EAT SO MANY DAMNED COOKIES DIET, which later became THE DON'T EAT SO MANY DAMNED COOKIES - AND GROW SOME SIDEBURNS WHILE YOU'RE AT IT DIET. I here list the tenets of these diets, which I should probably condense into a novelty sized book for people to impulse purchase while in line at Border's.<br /><ol><li>Don't eat so many damned cookies!<br /></li><li>Ride your bicycle once in a while, will ya?</li><li>Maybe coming home and microwaving a slice of lasagna at 1 am after a night of drinking isn't such a good idea, tough guy.</li><li>Sideburns, being an exceptionally fashionable and masculine facial embellishment will surely increase your general wind resistance thus causing you to burn more calories when any form of calisthenics is taken.</li><li>After a long day of vigorous activity and a fine meal of mutton washed down with Guinness, strip in a room free of drafts and have your servant rub your skin with soft Turkish towels to stimulate the bloodflow and toughen the skin.</li></ol>Needless to say, the plan failed as I didn't have a servant, and soft Turkish towels come at a high premium nowadays. When I morphed the plan into the first SEERSUCKER PLAN, I only lost about 10 pounds and then lost interest completely.<br />Now, I recently realized that I am to be married on July 2, 2011. I have already purchased a beautiful platinum ring that Alex-sensei (the blood-drenched samurai lord alluded to in previous entries) claims looks as if it was from outer space. [<span style="font-weight: bold;">Please see comments section for an exact quote.</span>] We have settled upon place to hold our reception. The church is squared away. And I have decided that I need to lose EIGHTY (80) POUNDS so that I can rock a three-piece seersucker suit. Why do I need to lose so much weight for a simple suit? The reasons are threefold:<br /><ol><li>Our wedding photos will have two BEAUTIFUL people in them, instead of 1.5 beautiful people!</li><li>I'll be a whole lot healthier - beneficial to spending the rest of our lives together!</li><li>I WANT TO LOOK LIKE ATTICUS FINCH</li></ol><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TLtfxFF4WMI/AAAAAAAAADU/hfEDJ92SyCU/s1600/Atticus"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TLtfxFF4WMI/AAAAAAAAADU/hfEDJ92SyCU/s400/Atticus" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529118264312486082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 4: Atticus Finch - The single sexiest execution of the seersucker suit in recorded history. Soon to be overshadowed circa July 2011...</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">So, how do I plan on going from the festively plump William that everyone has grown to love to the svelt hero of <span style="font-style: italic;">To Kill a Mockingbird</span> in just about 8.5 months? Well, the work has already begun.<br />Tier 1: Use Wii Fit. I've neglected the obnoxious balance board for a few months now. While the exercises are simple and frankly don't seem to be very effective, the game is a good method to keep records of weight loss and activity levels. I try to use Wii Fit about 3 times a week.<br />Tier 2: <a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml">The Couch to 5k running program</a>. Oh, how I dreaded running in gym class. You know, the normal stigma in gym class is being like the fat kid in dodgeball. Let me tell you kids, I was pretty good at dodgeball. But when it came to running? Oh boy - I think I'd prefer walking on coals to jogging a few laps. So Maria clued me into this program which gradually ratchets you up to running 3.1 miles - even after a sedentary life of channel surfing. I am currently working on the Week 5 workout which entails two sessions of running for 8 minutes punctuated by 5 minutes of walking.<br />Is it working? Well, I'm glad to report, yes. I began THE NEW SEERSUCKER PLAN in early September and have already lost around 15 pounds - ahead of schedule for 8 pounds of weight loss per month. So... barring any unforeseen circumstances, looks like I'll be sporting a three piece better than Gregory Peck. Wish me luck, kids!<br /></div></div></div></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-82832690470675202712010-09-29T19:54:00.006-04:002010-09-29T21:28:20.329-04:00From the Glorious Plains of the Fried Chicken Battle...This is perhaps amazingly coincidental, but Vana White was just praising the health benefits of cast iron skillets at the end of today's episode of Wheel of Fortune. Longtime readers are of course aware of the fact that I count among my choicest possessions an immense cast iron skillet. It's true, these marvels of the cooking world are nearly as old as metallurgy and as useful today as they ever were. When it comes to high-heat cooking, searing, pan-frying, or baking, nothing beats its natural non-stick surface or curious ability to transfer healthy doses of iron into whatever you're cooking.<br />Now, what is my absolute favorite thing to cook in my prize skillet? Easy - fried chicken. You see, legends have been passed by word of mouth of the secret recipe that was whispered into Abraham Lincoln's ear by the Archangel Gabriel and passed down through bizarre Masonic ceremonies until it made its home in our humble Brooklyn abode. What is so special about this secret recipe once known only to heaven and later bequeathed to heroic presidents? Is it that the floured chicken is left out for 45 minutes before cooking? Is it the Old Bay seasoning? No one knows but I.<br />But there are Dark Forces at work in the world of fried chicken. And in the cruel depths of Harlem exists a recipe circulated in small circles. Legend has it that Huitzilopotchli, the highest of all the Aztec pantheon swore only to give the secret of his fried chicken recipe to the Last Emperor. And when Cuauhtémoc fell, sure enough, the codex containing the sacred fried chicken recipe fell into the hands of Hernán Cortés de Monroy y Pizarro.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/cb/Huitzilopochtli_telleriano.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 317px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/cb/Huitzilopochtli_telleriano.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 1: Huitzilopotchli fryin' up some chicken!<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">The recipe was lost for centuries until rediscovered - GOD knows how - by none other than my archnemesis, ROBIN.<br />Last year, Robin had the honor - nay - the privilege to taste my magical fried chicken recipe. To give you an idea of how I felt about what she said about the chicken, I here post some things that have been said or written about my chicken from various reputable sources.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"William's chicken caused me to weep for its resplendent beauty. I lost sleep thinking about his marvelous creation. I fear only that I shall never again know happiness like the first time I bit into that savory delight." -Greg M., Queens<br />"It puts KFC to shame - also, he is very attractive." -Maria F., Brooklyn<br />"I am too drunk to taste this chicken, but if I weren't drunk, I am sure that I would gladly sell my firstborn to the man behind this recipe." -Colonel S., Louisville, KY<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">That said, nothing took me by surprise so much as when Ms. Robin said, "Eh, it's all right. You should try my recipe."<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">ALL RIGHT?!</span><br />At that point I was not yet aware that Ms. Robin's recipe came from an Aztec god. For shame. Clearly we had to engage in an ULTIMATE BATTLE FOR CHICKEN SUPREMACY!<br />The date: September 18.<br />The time: When we got around to it.<br />The place: Ms. Robin's apartment.<br />The Iron Chefs: Ms. Robin vs. William<br />And the battle ensued. An eclipse blocked out the sun. The Hudson River ran red with blood. My skillet sizzled with divine majesty. Robin's chicken lay in the oven, waiting , resting, biding its time. Just what is her secret? Bisquick. Yes Bisquick. Those Aztecs were way ahead of their time, having invented Bisquick before they invented government. The cooking subsided. The moon rose in the sky. The waters subsided. And there was peace. The battle was over. The chicken need only be tasted to see who reigned supreme.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TKPb5uuiaEI/AAAAAAAAAC8/BCXX70bBLEc/s1600/chicken"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TKPb5uuiaEI/AAAAAAAAAC8/BCXX70bBLEc/s400/chicken" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522499352928610370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 2: My chicken. Secret ingredient pictured at back.<br /></span></div>Robin dressed her chicken in lemon juice and fresh parsley. I dabbed my chicken dry and prepared for the best. And we sat down to the feast.<br />There was silent contemplation. Both sides seemed puzzled. Indeed, both Gabriel's and Huitzilopotchli's recipes seemed - equally delicious. How could this be? On the glorious fields of battle there must be a victor. But what was this -- ?<br />You see, earlier in the evening, one Maria, who many may knows as my fiancée, made a mashed potatoes and sour cream recipe. It was to be served as a complement to the fried chicken to be made. The only problem is - THE POTATOES WERE MORE POPULAR THAN ANY OF THE CHICKEN!<br />From Brooklyn came a Dark Horse riding up.<br />It was Maria, Napoleon of the Kitchen.<br />All glory went to Maria's delicious concoction. Robin and I stared at each other for a solid minute and broke down in tears. The heavens had failed us, and a new Queen of the Universe ascended to the throne of Victory.<br />What had been learned of this battle? Certainly Robin and I learned that both of our fried chickens are wonders of the modern world. But, to paraphrase the great Jedi Warrior Luke Skywalker - our overconfidence was our weakness. And to paraphrase the great Sith Lord Emperor Palpatine - your negligence of side-dishes as well.<br />Sigh.<br />Still, I think everybody wins when fried chicken and potatoes are involved.<br />Stay tuned next week when I reveal the secrets of weight loss and how I plan on losing 70 pounds before July 2, 2011. (Hint: avoid eating too much fried chicken.)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div></div></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-63551191219397878942010-08-24T20:57:00.015-04:002010-08-24T23:17:54.199-04:00The Fateful Lot of a Mets FanI first need to thank Gale one JILLION times for her contribution to this blog entry. Her amazing work may be seen below, and I implore you all to suffer this long blog entry to see her brilliance in action. If you don't want to hear about baseball, skip to the end. It pretty much sums up what this is all about!<br />Well, Maria and I just returned from a<a href="http://twentysomethingreview.blogspot.com/2010/08/review-30-vacation-all-i-ever-wanted.html"> very successful trip to Massachusetts</a>. There we visited Northampton, home of Maria's alma mater Smith College with its ivy-covered brick hallways haunted by the screeching ghost of Julia Child. We climbed a few mountains, ate some hippie-baked bread, you know, the typical thing you do in a town founded by and perpetuated by drugged out hippie <a href="http://billchas.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-which-we-lament-death-of-english.html">locavores</a>. Afterwards, we were taken in by our gracious hosts Alex and Dorothy in their quaint little seaside town of Salem. Of course you are familiar with Salem's seedy past; it being the site of Joseph McCarthy's famous trial and execution of several Soviet sorceresses accused of casting mysterious spells upon an unknowing Republican party.<br />Long story short, Maria and I both needed a vacation. Why? No, not because Maria worked her butt off this whole summer trying to instruct a bunch of ungrateful, immature cretins how to be special needs teachers. No, we needed a vacation from the New York Mets.<br />In 1958, the Evil Communist Sorceresses used their dark magick to steal New York's only beloved National League teams - the New York Giants and the Brooklyn Dodgers. These two teams had religiously dedicated fans who fueled a rivalry that some, including myself, deem legendary. In fact, their rivalry led to one of the most memorable moments in the history of sports: Bobby Thomson's Shot Heard 'Round the World. In 1951, the two teams ended the season in a dead heat, forcing a 3-game playoff. Down by 2 runs in the bottom of the 9th inning with two men on, the Giants sent Bobby Thomson to the plate. Ralph Branca looked in for his signs, and this happened:<br /><center><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rMa5eZE5ilE?fs=1&amp;hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rMa5eZE5ilE?fs=1&amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In Memory of Bobby Thomson 1923-2010</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;">When I have a functioning time machine, you can be SURE this will be one of my first stops. With all the drama of the beautiful rivalry between two beloved teams, it's difficult to imagine how crestfallen the fans must have been when the two teams were uprooted seemingly overnight and placed on the pathetic West Coast. The same West Coast that whined that is had no professional baseball teams. So... it got what it wanted. Two teams were torn from their native home and transplanted to a wretched state whose shallow, unthinking populous would eventually make The Terminator its governor. Just 3 years later, the Los Angeles Angels were born, and before 1970, California would be the home to FIVE baseball teams (the other two being the Athletics [also stolen from the East Coast's Philadelphia via Kansas City] and the ridiculously named Padres of San Diego).<br />Now, those familiar with baseball, and even those unfamiliar know of another team lurking in the lurid corners of the of the Bronx. Yeah, those pesky New York Yankees. The Yankees (a team originally from Baltimore and calling themselves the Orioles) have a long history that consists mainly of being hated by literally everyone but Yankees fans and spending ludicrous amounts of money on purchasing World Series trophies. Those die-hard Dodger and Giant fans would rather not follow baseball than root for that impostor New York team. What was a scorned National League baseball faction to do?<br />Easy: <a href="http://thegroundfloor.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/moses_2.jpg">CALL ROBERT MOSES</a>!<br />Basically whatever Robert Moses wants to happen, happens. You want to clear out an orphanage to build another parkway? Call Robert Moses. So a team of Robert Moses and William Shea worked tirelessly to bring National League baseball back. Shea threatened to form a Continental League to rival the American and National Leagues, and Major League Baseball caved to the pressure. New York would be granted a National League team upon the 1962 expansion of the league. Owners brainstormed names (the Burros, the Meadowlarks, the Jets) before finally settling on the snappy and eloquent Mets, a shortened form of Metropolitans.<br />The team would wear orange and blue, colors formerly worn by the Dodgers and Giants, and sported an interlocked NY logo previously associated with the erstwhile tenants of the Polo Grounds. The team would be populated with former New York baseball stars, all of that age when knees turn to glass and cleats feel like lead. Long story short, the 1962 Mets set the stage for what would be a long history of misery only occasionally broken by a small star of success. They wheezed into the season's finish line with a paltry record of 40 wins and 120 losses, the worst record since the 1899 Cleveland Spiders' 20-134. No team has gotten close to a record that bad in the modern era.<br />It's true, the Mets have enjoyed their share of success. Their acquisition of perhaps the greatest pitcher of his era, <a href="http://a.espncdn.com/photo/2008/0929/page2_g_seaverts_580.jpg">Tom Seaver</a>, led to their miraculous World Series win in 1969. In 1986 with the leadership of the Magically Mustachioed greatest first baseman in New York History, <a href="http://slyoyster.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/pg2_g_hernandez_400.jpg">KEITH HERNANDEZ</a>, the Mets did it again after another <a href="http://mlb.mlb.com/video/play.jsp?content_id=2968146">miraculous play</a>.<br />I was two years old when the Mets won the world series. And since then, I have witnessed them whimper away to the Yankees in the 2000 series, and watched Carlos Beltran let a curveball in for a strike to end their 2006 bid for greatness. All subsequent years, the New York Mets have lived up to their New York Post-ish nickname, the New York Mess. Perhaps nothing broke my heart so much as the look on my dad's face as we sat in Shea Stadium watching the Mets lose THE LAST GAME EVER PLAYED THERE to the Florida Marlins. I here replicate this miserable scene for you, my dear audience.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/THR5pGdhDFI/AAAAAAAAACk/40rrri7lzyk/s1600/Dad+Impostor.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/THR5pGdhDFI/AAAAAAAAACk/40rrri7lzyk/s320/Dad+Impostor.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509161991196970066" border="0" /></a>I grew that paper moustache for this occasion. My poor father has been a Mets fan since that bastard team arrived in their adorably dumpy stadium in Queens. FORTY EIGHT YEARS. For the record, that's 2 WONDERFUL years of happiness and sunshine - FORTY SIX YEARS of ANGUISH, TORMENT and PAIN!<br />Then came this story: Mets reliever <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/12/sports/baseball/12mets.html">Francisco Rodriguez was arrested</a> for beating up his father-in-law following another pitiful Mets loss at the hands of relief pitchers. The Mets barely even slapped him on the wrist, and even expect to have him back next year, even though he injured himself after punching his father-in-law.<br />It's heart-breaking. There is something very... odd about this team. Every September they break your heart and every April, we fans return to them. We return to them because they are the Amazin's! The Miracle Mets! They're the team whose credo was made famous by Tug McGraw: YA GOTTA BELIEVE! What can I liken it to? I posed this question to Gale, who helped me illustrate my thoughts - LITERALLY AND BRILLIANTLY!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/THR7hNdwrUI/AAAAAAAAACs/KfdqjoOLlS4/s1600/metscolors.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/THR7hNdwrUI/AAAAAAAAACs/KfdqjoOLlS4/s400/metscolors.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509164054661344578" border="0" /></a>That about sums it up - an abusive relationship. We hate to love our Amazin's. It appears that all we die-hard Mets fans, who ask for Tom Seaver autographed baseballs in lieu of class rings and have tickets to the pathetic last game at Shea proudly displayed in their living rooms, are doomed to follow the cycle forever. Every time I see a little child wearing a Mets hat, I think of the years of pain and anguish every autumn will bring them. I implore you, Mr. Wilpon and Mr. Minaya, if you care at all for the children, do something to deliver our overpaid baseball team from the depths of laughingstock-hood. In the meantime, we'll do our best to anesthetize ourselves to the aura of hopelessness that surrounds Taxpayer - ahem - Citi Field.<br />Please give us at least one more happy recap that we can put in the books.<br /><br />Note: There is nothing funny about spousal abuse. It's a metaphor people. A metaphor. At least I didn't compare someone or something to the Nazi party like everyone does nowadays.<br /></div></center>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-74590283720128309092010-08-16T18:00:00.007-04:002010-08-16T18:57:55.173-04:00Wherein The Author Elaborates on the Gentlemanly Sports of Baseball, Croquet and BaseballI must thank you all for being exceptionally patient readers. When Mr. Hodgman acknowledged my unbridled brilliance via Twitter, I sort of pledged to update more frequently. Alas, I have not made good on my side of the bargain. Still, it's difficult to choose from the literal thousands of interesting things that happen to me on a daily basis, and more difficult still to describe them in the exquisite prose that issues from my perfect mind. Here's a small smattering of the interesting things I wanted to show you!<br />ITEM 1: CIVIL WAR BASEBALL<br />A band of time traveling base-ballers from A.D. 1864 arrived in Sayville during the Wife-to-Be's and my brief time on Long Island. I here provide video evidence from my Android which, much to my dismay, is a smart-phone and in no way a subservient humanoid robot designed to do my bidding and never to develop its own consciousness and decide to kill me...<br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-NGg4pjmjwQ?fs=1&amp;hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-NGg4pjmjwQ?fs=1&amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"></embed></object><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 1: An error is charged to the right fielder.</span><br /></div><br />The said base-ball match pitted the Brooklyn Atlantics against the New York Mutuals. This of course brought to mind my absolute favorite Conan O'Brien sketch wherein the red-headed Irish giant came upon his own horde of time traveling base-ballers in Old Bethpage. I assure you it's much funnier than the previous video:<br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;" ><br /><a style="" href="http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&amp;videoid=25942065">Conan Old Time Baseball</a><br /><br /><object height="360px" width="425px"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><param name="movie" value="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=25942065,t=1,mt=video"><embed src="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=25942065,t=1,mt=video" allowfullscreen="true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="360" width="425"></embed></object><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 2: What is that demonry?!</span><br /></div>Oh how I wish I could have donned by best base-ball knickerbockers and show those so-and-so's what for. I'd pepper their porridge, see!<br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;" ><br /></span>ITEM 2: AN INVITATION TO THE DUCHESS FROM THE QUEEN TO PLAY CROQUET<br />I attended a Great Gatsby themed party. Now by this point you are all aware that F. Scott Fitzgerald is on written warning from me, and thus Jay Gatsby is also on notice - even though he spends most of his time floating around in the pool these days. There, the gentlemen among us took part in the great American pastime of LAWN CROQUET!<span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TGm60obc9UI/AAAAAAAAACE/6QzRkCLvZi8/s1600/croquet"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TGm60obc9UI/AAAAAAAAACE/6QzRkCLvZi8/s320/croquet" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506137432805668162" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 3: A typical croquet game</span>. <span style="font-style: italic;">Fancy dress required.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ah... nothing like a refreshing round of knocking wooden balls through wickets. Is there any game quite as kingly as croquet - a game whose very rulebook provides that players be penalized 2 strokes if they are not in possession of an alcoholic beverage? I (pictured at left in the dark suit) came in a very respectable second after a couple of brilliant shots on my part. I still believe that Mr. Perry is a rotten cheater who isn't worthy of the monocle he wears which he so flagrantly boasts about at any given opportunity.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TGm8RgtwYII/AAAAAAAAACM/BehBodWK3Q8/s1600/croquet+2"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TGm8RgtwYII/AAAAAAAAACM/BehBodWK3Q8/s320/croquet+2" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506139028462788738" border="0" /></a></div></div></div><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 4: This is what second place looks like.<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Also worth note is the glorious picture of Maria that came of this party.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TGm8_YPyeTI/AAAAAAAAACU/lpZkRhoYrXI/s1600/maria+gatsby"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 272px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TGm8_YPyeTI/AAAAAAAAACU/lpZkRhoYrXI/s320/maria+gatsby" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506139816463595826" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 5: Your jealousy is palpable - both at my good fortune and her good looks.<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br />Item 3: MEDIEVAL TIMES BASEBALL!<br />A while back I received a Facebook message from the Brooklyn Cyclones baseball club with an offer that could not be refused. The package included:<br /><ul><li>A box seat behind home plate at a Brooklyn Cyclones game</li><li>A voucher for a hot dog, fries and a drink at the original Nathan's on Stillwell Ave.</li><li>Complementary Cyclones baseball cap</li></ul>Little did we know, that the particular night we chose to attend included the following BONUS entertainments!<br /><ul><li>A player on the opposing team named Burt Reynolds</li><li>Ike Davis inverted bobblehead night (sold out)<br /></li><li>Wonderfully drunk and overzealous Cyclones fans nearly falling over at the prospect of a late-inning rally!</li><li>MEDIEVAL TIMES NIGHT<br /></li></ul>After every 2 innings, several knights hailing from the distant kingdom of Lyndhurst, New Jersey would engage in mortal combat. And not only that, we were repeatedly told by our master of ceremonies that we should stay after the 9th inning! "My lords and ladies! Stay after the 9th inning, for the knights will mount their horses and joust!"<br />Laugh not, readers, for in attendance that night happened to be my dear sister Jessica. Many years ago on a rainy December evening right before my sister's birthday, our family was slated to make the long, perilous journey to Lyndhurst, New Jersey to visit the nights in their home castle. Alas! Father had forgotten to purchase Lotto tickets, and so bolted out the door into the rain. Seconds later, he returned through the front door and fell on the floor, muddy, wet and writhing in pain. Sure enough, Father had broken his wrist sliding in the mud. Sadly, we had to cancel our journey to the rotten Kingdom of New Jersey, and Jessica never got to experience Medieval Times - THAT IS UNTIL THIS SUMMER!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TGnBX6HGmFI/AAAAAAAAACc/8ERHd1BPpWE/s1600/jess+joust"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TGnBX6HGmFI/AAAAAAAAACc/8ERHd1BPpWE/s320/jess+joust" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506144635917342802" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 6: Happy belated 9th Birthday, Jessie!<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Well... I think we're about caught up. I have something very special for all of you in the forthcoming blog entry to make up for this inexcusable absence on my part. Until then, take care of yourselves, and each other!<br /></div></div></div></div></div></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-65390111124143665012010-07-18T18:44:00.016-04:002010-07-18T23:45:39.126-04:00Somebody's Getting Married or: How I Became Maria's Husband-ElectWell, Maria and I are happily engaged. I chose a fine Independence Day afternoon spent on Governors Island as the time and place that I would ask her to marry me. Thankfully she said yes, no doubt due to the blingged-out beauty of my great grandmother's 80-year old diamond and platinum ring. She has in fact just confirmed: "Yes - it was only because of the ring that I said yes." The lovely and talented Gale designed this unbelievably brilliant card to celebrate our forthcoming nuptials.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TEOiVifsi-I/AAAAAAAAABs/w3K0uw9fJxY/s1600/Engagement+Card.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TEOiVifsi-I/AAAAAAAAABs/w3K0uw9fJxY/s320/Engagement+Card.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495414461242837986" border="0" /></a>Fig. 1: Too many titles? DO YOU KNOW WHO WE ARE?!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Alex, the current blood-soaked feudal Shogun of Hitoyoshi Castle,<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>pointed out that upon Maria's and my marriage, she will ALWAYS one-up me in the race for the most titles attached to a name - for she will be (at least now) <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">MRS.</span> Baron(ness) the Reverend Doctor(ess) Mayor(ess) [Lady] Maria N. Olsen-Hoek, Esq., T.T..<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div></div>That aside, I'm surprised at just how sneaky I can be! In fact, after visiting Robert Moses' Seaside Paradise at Jones Beach, I staged an unbelievably manly conspiratorial dinner-and-drink talk with Jon and Greg at that ultimate bastion of machismo, McSorley's Ale House. So manly is this den of manliness that women weren't even allowed in the joint until the 1970s. Now friends, you may be aware that I venture into the realms of "re-imagined" history in this weblog, but the fact stated in the previous sentence is entirely true! What may or may not be true is the fact that Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan (D-NY) invented the frat boy game of Flip Cup at McSorley's. His version of Flip Cup involved inverting a full glass of beer onto a sloppily drunk patron's head as a form of payback for his theft of the Senator's sixth cheese and onion sandwich of the afternoon.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TEOhZPfqBII/AAAAAAAAABk/8ap3jom5ZFc/s1600/flipcup+origins.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TEOhZPfqBII/AAAAAAAAABk/8ap3jom5ZFc/s320/flipcup+origins.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495413425350247554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 2: Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan (left) inventing Flip Cup</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Photo courtesy of Greg's Supreme Archive Photo Emporium, Ltd.</span>)<br /><br /></div>Also, it's where Theodore Roosevelt wrestled and murdered his first grizzly bear at age seven. Alas, we are unable to provide photographic evidence as TR's natural X-ray emissions rendered him completely unphotographable.<br />Where was I? Oh yes! We met there to plot the engagement. The next day, Greg and I dreamed up a cover story that would permit me to return to Long Island to ask her parents what they thought of the two of us getting hitched. We would be "recording" some "dialog" for "Greg"'s "thesis" "project." Mr. French put it best: "That's great! A marriage founded in lies and deceit!" He also asked that I henceforth refer to him as "Your Lordship." Clearly any offspring Maria and I produce will be genetically predisposed to megalomania.<br />JULY IV, MMX - Greg, Sonja, Helen, Maria, and I (in custody of my great grandmother Lillian's ring) depart for Governors Island by ferry for Independence Day festivities. The island was fortified during the American Revolutionary War in anticipation of the Battle of Long Island / Brooklyn. Later those battlements became Fort Jay. Centuries later the island fell into the jurisdiction of the Coast Guard, which eventually abandoned the island for cost-saving reasons, leaving a ghostly shell of its militaristic past. We lunched in one of the fort's ravelins but quickly ran out of drinking water. Greg and I set out to look for water only to learn that Emperor Bloomberg saw fit to open the island to the public without installing public potable water outlets. TWELVE MORE YEARS! Thinking quickly, Greg had a brilliant plan to cross the river back to Brooklyn to fill our water containers. He texted the girls with perhaps the most famous text message in our group's history:<br />"no water on island. making supplies run. brb"<br />When we arrived at Brooklyn's Pier 6, the sight left us stunned and agitated. A line stretching nearly two city blocks had formed. In our astonishment, we didn't even see the drinking fountain not 20 feet away from us. As we assessed the line, a motorcyclist asked us if we were going to Governors Island.<br />"Nah, we actually just came from Governors Island - for some water."<br />"Y'know, Rosanne Cash is giving a concert on Governors Island."<br />"Who the hell is that?"<br />"... ... Get outta here!"<br />Apparently Rosanne Cash belongs to that elite group of "People Who Are Only Famous Because Their Parents Were Famous." Nonetheless, I have seen fit to put her on warning for crimes committed against persons trying to propose to their long-time girlfriends. BEHOLD THE LIST!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 3: Persons On Warning For Crimes Committed Against William and His Associates</span><br /><ol style="text-align: center;"><li style="text-align: center;">Rosanne Cash</li><li>F. Scott Fitzgerald</li><li>M. Night Shyamalan<br /></li><li>ABBA</li><li>MTA New York City Transit</li></ol><div style="text-align: left;">"Why F. Scott Fitzgerald?!" I can hear you ask. Well, because of that guy I have massive panic attacks when I see a green light. And that children is why I don't have a driver's license.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Anyway... broken-hearted, Greg and I took the bus to Atlantic Terminal. We planned to get water from the Battery Maritime Building and take the ferry from South Street Seaport. We reasoned that since the ferries there were larger, the line would move faster.<br />We were horribly, horribly wrong.<br />Our shock and awe at the scene near Pier 6 in Brooklyn couldn't compare to what we witnessed when we arrived at the Battery Maritime Building. A line stretching all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge. About 90 minutes into our quest for water, we were sweaty, thirsty and sun-baked. I was losing hope for a successful engagement atmosphere. Maria and I were separated by New York's Buttermilk Channel. Still, we had at least fulfilled one part of our quest, for we did find water in an inconspicuous location within the Staten Island Ferry terminal. BEHOLD!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TEOuQ3jYpiI/AAAAAAAAAB0/O1sgQh0mE0k/s1600/water.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TEOuQ3jYpiI/AAAAAAAAAB0/O1sgQh0mE0k/s320/water.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495427575135643170" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig. 4: This had better not be rhinoceros water...</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Okay. Calm down fellas. We'll go back to Brooklyn. Maybe the line has died down. Maybe we can get Nick to save us a place in line. Everything will be all right.<br />Subway. Brooklyn. Borough Hall. Walk to Pier 6.<br />Nick had scouted a place in line for us. I'd never been happier to see a picnic straggler. Greg and I cut into line, when a little idea popped into my head to appease those behind us in line - <span style="font-style: italic;">show them the ring; people love that romantic stuff</span>. Success! The ladies behind us didn't have a problem with two more people hopping on the ferry in front of them.<br />Okay. We're almost there. Just across the channel.<br />I had originally planned to propose in front of the fireworks display. But no. Not after this epic quest. The only way to redeem our honor as men was for me to do something bold - offer her this water, the product of a failed yet epic 3-hour 2-borough quest, say to hell with the water, and give her the ring.<br />By this time the ladies had tired of life at Fort Jay. They left the perfect serenity of our fortified picnic ground to climb tress, learn to walk on stilts and take photographs of flowers. Huff - <span style="font-style: italic;">women</span>. I was distraught. I wanted to propose right there under that tree in that fort. Head down, I bolted back to the picnic area, quickly re-unpacked out picnic, offered her the water and then suggested we get renter's insurance.<br />"What for?" she asked.<br />I got on one knee.<br />"For this thing. Would you marry me?"<br />I popped open the ring case. We were both dressed for hot weather, sporting NY Mets and Brooklyn Dodgers baseball caps. We were both red-faced and thirsty. She shed a single little tear and said "Yes!"<br />And that ladies and gentlemen is the long and convoluted story of how I became Ms. Maria's Husband-Elect. There weren't any fireworks and I didn't pay a crop duster to write "Will you marry me?" in the sky. But really, I wouldn't have it any other way. ...don't think she would either. And just for good measure:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TEOwcrnZ1kI/AAAAAAAAAB8/eE-Fc7DCKng/s1600/fig+6"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgjUfWzNmUM/TEOwcrnZ1kI/AAAAAAAAAB8/eE-Fc7DCKng/s320/fig+6" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495429977112958530" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fig 5</span><br /></div></div></div></div></div>BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-42783910357095595652010-06-27T23:26:00.008-04:002010-06-28T16:30:33.545-04:00Being a Treatise Against Internet Conversion<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">I fear that the internet may be broken. Being a degree-holding Time Traveler from the University of Stony Brook, I am obsessed with the conversion of measurements. Just think, the most infinitesimally small miscalculation could see a chrononaut wishing to knock back a few Singapore Slings with Napoleon could end up smack in the middle of a wooly mammoth hunt in the Pleistocene Era. Imagine my shock - nay, my HORROR - when I chanced upon these very different results when researching an EXTREMELY important conversion when dealing with Time Travel:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">Light years per century to furlongs per fortnight</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">Why is this conversion so vital? It's a long story, but I am willing to share it with you. A number of steam punks (who were also LARPers, incidentally) from the year 2012 accidentally built a real time machine out of really cool looking rusty gears from nearby junk yards and a few antique camera lenses from a garage sale in Red Hook. By coincidence, their maiden journey landed them at the first International Convention of Time Travelers and Chrononauts held in 802,701 C.E.. Not wanting to break from character during the panel on Feasible Speed Limits in the Time Vortex, the group of 11 hipsters clad in their finest alternative-history Victorian Era finery filibustered for the standardization of the Furlongs per Fortnight measurement. Grumblings from actual time travelers from the Victorian Era (who thought the measurement impractical) and from Zandquazer the Magnificent, Space-Sultan of Planet Glaucqqaatl-Omega 8 (who had never heard of the furlong) were drowned in a sea of the many who hopped on the steam punk bandwagon after promises of laudanum-infused absinthe martinis from the 11 gate crashers. Since then, it has been the very chic thing to set one's space-time speedometer to furlongs per fortnight. But we serious time travelers know better and use the far more practical light years per century. Still, when dealing with Time Cops (you'll remember that </span><a href="http://billchas.blogspot.com/2009/09/in-which-i-create-such-thing-as-free.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">Franklin Roosevelt was himself a Time Cop</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">) it is necessary to quickly convert one's practical measure of speed with its fashionable counterpart.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">That said, let me show you what my research wielded. First, I input the conversion into the popular Google search engine. Here are the results:</span></div><div><a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&amp;q=lightyears+per+century+to+furlongs+per+fortnight&amp;aq=f&amp;aqi=m1&amp;aql=&amp;oq=&amp;gs_rfai="><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">GOOGLE</span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">For those too lazy to follow the link, Google claims 1 Light year/century is equal to 1.8026175 × 10^10 furlongs/fortnight.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">Compare this to the results given to me by Bill Gates' Bing:</span></div><div><a href="http://www.bing.com/search?q=lightyears+per+century+to+furlongs+per+fortnight&amp;go=&amp;form=QBLH&amp;qs=n&amp;sk="><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">BING</span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">Lazy people: 1 Light year/century = 1.8038522 × 10^10 furlongs/fortnight</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">That is a discrepancy of .0012346 × 10^10 furlongs/fortnight! So outrageous a difference could very well cause a time traveller to skip off of a wormhole and into a supermassive black hole to GOD KNOWS WHERE in the UNIVERSE! The implications of that are too mind-boggling to even begin to comprehend. My present theory as to this potentially lethal difference of opinion may have something to do with one of the search engines not properly accounting for leap years - either neglecting them entirely or forgetting that we skip Leap Year Day each century on years that end in 00. Who knows, perhaps this problem comes down to a difference of Leap Seconds!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:helvetica;">Now, I am no mathematician, so I fear that I must outsource my problem. I implore all competent and able-minded readers to convert light years per century to furlongs per fortnight, neatly showing me the conversions and work they have done. He or she who first submits the correct calculations will receive a GRAND PRIZE of an expertly crafted sonnet about him or her written by ME, an Honest-to-Goodness Baron of the Principality of Sealand. Wow, I realized I haven't told people about my baronhood. That will have to wait. For now - BEGIN CALCULATING!</span></div><meta charset="utf-8">BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-63789103761009841172010-06-23T14:06:00.005-04:002010-06-23T14:47:03.944-04:00Wherein - Good Lord, I Do Believe John Hodgman Just "Tweeted" My Web Log!<span style="font-style: italic;"></span>It has come to my attention via an email from a complete stranger that John Hodgman, a person that I hold in no small esteem has used the social networking site Twitter to share my <a href="http://twitter.com/hodgman/status/16864938729">post about Oscar the Grouch being a TIME LORD</a>. Imagine my current embarrassment. Here my favorite humorist has seen fit to acknowledge my understated brilliance, and I have not posted since April, failing even to complete the epic DISNEY SONG VOTE.<br />But then I reflect - some of the finest works of art remain incomplete. There's Stuart's portrait of George Washington:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://hoocher.com/Gilbert_Stuart/George_Washington_unfinished_1796.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 457px; height: 599px;" src="http://hoocher.com/Gilbert_Stuart/George_Washington_unfinished_1796.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />There's Chaucer's Canterbury Tales<br />[<span style="font-style: italic;">picture not found</span>]<br />And now there's Willie &amp; Maria's Epic Disney Song Bracket.<br />It is now for the annals of history to decide upon its brilliance, though I may comment that anything containing a portrait of Jerry Orbach deserves any self-respecting museum's admiration.<br />I suppose I should offer a more recent glimpse into my life. I have recently applied to be a full-time teacher of History at the Bronx Urban Assembly Studio School for Writers and Artists at Casita Maria. Up to now, after a long and arduous battle with the New York City Department of Education, I have been a substitute teacher at various schools throughout the Mythical Kingdom of Brooklyn and the Bronx, a borough famous only for a steroid-imbued baseball team that has won to this date 937 World's Series championships and six Stanley Cups, though their claims to these hockey accolades are contentious at best.*<br />God-willing I will succeed in landing this position, as it has been a long-term goal of mine to teach children about the gross omissions in history textbooks, like these:<br /><ul><li>General Douglas MacArthur, the celebrated American general that conquered the Pacific Theater, was in fact a cyborg whose main fuel source consisted of corn cob pipes<br /></li><li>Bob Dylan was the Second President of the Confederate States of America and penned <span style="font-style: italic;">All Along the Watchtower </span>as a tribute to Abraham Lincoln<br /></li><li>Christopher Columbus did not think the world round, but rather shaped like a neatly trimmed mustache</li></ul>I have such a wealth of historical knowledge that I literally fear over-filling my students' brains with hard facts.<br />I assure you that given the current circumstances, I will have to update more frequently. And even if I don't, people may still witness <a href="http://twentysomethingreview.blogspot.com/">Maria's and my culinary BRILLIANCE</a> as we find out how many ways to serve the dozens of heads of lettuce we receive each week from our local Community Supported Agricultural share in Crown Heights.<br /><br />*The New York [Name Withheld]s, formerly the New York Highlanders, formerly the Baltimore Orioles claimed the Stanley Cup Titles in 1620, 1980, 1981, 1982, 1983, and 2011 seasons. A little known clause in the team's charter declares them the victor in every Stanley Cup Championship in the immediate following year. And in 1620, well that was just a fluke and the Canadiens' goaltender at the time was a known alcoholic.BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-19868615002644923532010-04-17T16:12:00.006-04:002010-04-17T17:16:01.324-04:00Wherein We Vote: Part the Second, Round the Second... AND I BOYCOTT!One of my favorite episodes of Iron Chef took place on May 21, 1999. In a nine-episode stretch, Chairman Kaga's Iron Chefs went 3 and 6. Outraged, the eccentric trillionaire with a penchant for Liberace's hand-me-downs boycotted the next match, leaving "Dr." Yukio Hattori to host the program. Confused and embarrassed, Hattori-san revealed the appalling secret ingredient - SUCKLING PIG. And so, television history was made. Chairman Kaga was found lurking in the shadows, daintily sipping champagne from a crystal flute. Iron Chef Chen Kenichi fried a whole pig head in a wok. And yes, I share this historical event with you dear readers:<br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XRwcioLSxMc&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XRwcioLSxMc&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />Why would I take all this time to recount to you this awesomely powerful story? Frankly, I am outraged. Let me tell you why:<br />Argument 1: Is no one even cognizant of the fact that JERRY ORBACH (a.k.a. Det. Lenny Briscoe) sang "Be Our Guest" in <i>Beauty and the Beast</i>? Just look at his reaction to your huge mistake, voters!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.bestweekever.tv/bwe/images/2009/12/Lenny-Briscoe.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 443px; height: 600px;" src="http://www.bestweekever.tv/bwe/images/2009/12/Lenny-Briscoe.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Argument 2: BE PREPARED IS THE FINEST SONG PENNED BY ANYONE IN THE EMPLOY OF THE WALT DISNEY COMPANY IN THE LAST 20 YEARS! Music by SIR Elton John. Lyrics by SIR Timothy Miles Bindon Rice. British nobility, dear voters! Not only that, the song has so much intensity that Jeremy Irons was rendered unable to finish singing the song and thus Jim Cummings (a.k.a. Darkwing Duck) had to replicate his voice in order to complete it.<br />In short, I am very upset with all of you and will thus dress like my hero, the enigmatic Chairman Kaga, and lurk in the shadows drinking champagne as you vote on the next round. Here is Maria with the decidedly UN-Happy Recap. Dearest?<br /><br />Wow, honey. That was...special. Not all of the results in this vote were unhappy, at least not for me, but they were most certainly tense, and will elicit more commentary!<br /><br />-"Be a Man" barely edged out "Be Our Guest," inciting boos from the rafters, but I sympathize. It was a tough choice, and I'm not sad. I'm just glad that Jerry Orbach isn't around to see the results. (Too soon?) Anyway, "Be a Man" will face "Gaston" in the Sweet 16, which as we know, eliminated Willie's favorite song from the competition. WILL THE DRAMA EVER END?<br />-"Friend Like Me" won a decisive victory over "Hakuna Matata" and will be matched up with...wait. Another tie? Nobody could determine a winner between "A Whole New World" and "Under the Sea"?! This is the one that made me outraged, but luckily the internet agreed that "A Whole New World" was the better choice, and so it will live to see another round.<br />-"Heigh Ho" and "When You Wish Upon a Star" were both strong competitors, but it's "Heigh Ho" that will advance to the Sweet 16, against "Once Upon a Dream," which defeated another tough competitor in "When I See an Elephant Fly." It's tough, my friends, but imagine how hard it will be when it's the final 2!<br />-Finally, "Bear Necessities" proved to be the favorite Jungle Book song over "I Wanna Be Like You," and will meet "Cruella De Vil" in the Sweet 16, which beat out "Bella Notte."<br /><br />To find the other eight participants in the Sweet 16, we must now continue Round 2 with our remaining brackets, the "Mary Poppins Bracket" and the miscellaneous "Walt Disney Bracket." With our famed announcer Willie lurking in the shadows, unable to provide you with the pomp and circumstance of his bombastic prose, I guess all I can say is "allez cuisine." Or something. So yeah, you'll have until Monday at 11:59 PM to vote on these songs. And here they are now!<br /><br />From the Mary Poppins Bracket:<br /><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3070320" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3070325" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3070330" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3070336" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><br />And from the Walt Disney Bracket:<br /><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3070345" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3070348" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3070351" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3070357" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><br /><br />Have fun, everybody! Hopefully Willie will stop sulking after this one.BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-69773301371533752102010-04-13T19:21:00.003-04:002010-04-13T20:04:14.680-04:00The Disney Bracket Abideth - ENTER ROUND IIExceptional turnout last time - let's see if we can't get even more people to vote this time. Well everyone has voted on all 64 Songs in this Tournament of Disney. I was somewhat surprised with just how heated and close some of these polls were. In fact, we had a BIT of a problem in the contest that pitted <span style="font-style:italic;">The Nightmare Before Christmas</span>' "This is Halloween" and the beloved "Scrooge" from <span style="font-style:italic;">The Muppet Christmas Carol</span> in what can only be called a Christmas Grudge Match.<br /><br />Since the poll has closed, I don't mind voicing my own opinion, which is that any song containing the line, "No crust of bread for those in need / No cheeses for us meeses" is vastly superior to any other conceivable song. That said, Maria in her unfathomable wisdom came up with what I consider a FAIR & BALANCED™ method for choosing the winner of this deadlocked vote. She entered the name of the movie from which the movie hailed in parentheses followed by the song's title in parentheses (i.e. "Muppet Christmas Carol" "Scrooge") in the Google search engine. The song that produced the most results won - so congratulations to Tim Burton. Cough. Hack. Anyway, this is the method that will be used in the event of another tie in the future. Maria will now provide us with the rest of the recap.<br /><br />-"It's a Small World" was found superior to the "Mouseketeers" theme, and will meet "Carrying the Banner" in Round 2, which ousted "Now is the Time."<br />-Pretty much only Willie voted for the Carousel of Progress, so unsurprisingly, "King of New York" will face "Feels Like Christmas" in Round 2, which edged out "Grim Grinning Ghosts."<br />-"This is Halloween" moves on to Round 2, as we learned above, along with "You Got a Friend in Me," which beat "Seize the Day."<br />-Finally, "Yo Ho" barely squeezed out "After Today," and will square off against "What's This" in Round 2, which won against "The Sorcerer's Apprentice."<br /><br />So now we move on to the long-awaited Round 2! Things will move faster from here on out! In Round 2, you will vote on two brackets' worth of match-ups at a time, which will still end up being 8 polls. These will be tougher decisions, friends, but you will still have only 3 days to vote. These next polls will close Friday night (4/16) at 11:59 PM. <br /><br />As a side note, I realized that due to my (still Maria btw) lack of knowledge about brackets and college basketball, I messed up on the seed numbers, (i.e. the winner of Seed 1 vs. Seed 16 should be paired against the winner of 8 vs. 9 in Round 2. I put it against the winner of 2 vs. 15. Oops.) BUT, since the seeds were randomly assigned anyway, IT DOESN'T MATTER. I APOLOGIZE FOR NOTHING! So yeah, it might look a little weird. <br /><br />Here are your ROUND TWO match-ups from "The Lion King Bracket":<br /><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3050948" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3050954" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3050959" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3050966" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><br /><br />And here are your match-ups from "The Snow White Bracket":<br /><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3050970" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3050973" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3050982" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3050995" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><br /><br />Some of these are nail-biters! Enjoy!BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67606023570559143.post-60127596492571325962010-04-08T20:24:00.003-04:002010-04-08T21:38:03.652-04:00Disney Song Vote: Part the First. Round the Fourth.I am somewhat disappointed with voter turnout in this last round. It appeared that people were unfamiliar with the songs and therefore didn't bother to vote, even after Maria's brilliant suggestion that voters actually listen to the songs. THIS WILL NOT ABIDE! Let's take a look at the results with Maria, shall we?<br /><br />If my happy recap is less than stellar this week, well, it's because I had to go back to work. :(<br /><br />-"Zip-a-dee doo dah" beat "Feed the Birds and will be pitted against "Supercalifrag..." in round 2, which beat "Happy Little Working Song."<br />-"How You Know" won over "Let's Get Together" and will face "Substitutiary Locomotion" in round 2, which beat "The Ugly Bug Ball." <br />-People just didn't appreciate Burl Ives enough to vote for "Summer Magic," so "Portobello Road" will face off against "Spoonful of Sugar" in round 2, which beat "Let's go fly a Kite," in which many agreed was one of the most heart-wrenching match-ups we've had so far.<br />-Finally, "Step in Time" beat "Laughing Place" and will meet "Chim Chim Cher-ee" in round 2, which beat "The Life I Lead." So much Mary Poppins, so little time.<br /><br />This week, we present a wholly enigmatic bracket. Due entirely to our inability to place these songs into a single coherent genre, we are calling this the Walter Elias Disney Bracket. These songs include themes from rides at Disney World (including both theme songs from the various incarnations of the Carousel of Progress!), a Jim Henson production, and several selections from films released by Disney's various affiliates and et cetera. We apologize for not having these polls for you yesterday, but life got in the way of our side project. How sad when such a thing happens. Anyhow, here are our new polls. You will have until Sunday at 11:59 PM, so make it count!<br /><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3027380" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3027384" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3027393" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><br />Yes, friends! Disney owned the Muppets at this point!<br /><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3027402" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3027414" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3027417" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3027423" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><br />Several people commented on the lack of Fantasia songs to which we responded, "Really, people? That's classical music." However, we found it in our hearts to include "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," as it was our belief that Disney really popularized this piece of music and made it its own, so much so that it was even reprised in Fantasia 2000.<br /><embed allowScriptAccess="never" saveEmbedTags="true" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="beta3" salign="tl" scale="autoscale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" FlashVars="p=3027431" src="http://i.polldaddy.com/poll.swf" width="252" height="500"></embed><br /><br />And that's it! Now you've seen all 64 songs! After we get the results of this vote we can move on to ROUND TWO, where we will whittle the results down to 16! For now, enjoy the voting!BillChashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150091339105865805noreply@blogger.com2